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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150921">Widow's Bite: The 168th Hunger Games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_nell/pseuds/darth_nell'>darth_nell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>New Friends, New Enemies [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>168th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arena (Hunger Games), Canon-Typical Violence, Careers (Hunger Games), District 8 (Hunger Games), Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Gen, Guilt-tripping, Hunger Games, Hunger Games Tributes, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Manipulation, Original Arena(s) (Hunger Games), POV Female Character, POV Third Person, The Capitol (Hunger Games), Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:27:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>94,045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_nell/pseuds/darth_nell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost a hundred years after the failed Second Rebellion, the Hunger Games continue. Panem has changed, and yet it has not. Traditions carry on, and District Eight braces itself for another Reaping Ceremony.</p><p> </p><p>(Note: Can be read without prior knowledge of the previous work(s) !)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>New Friends, New Enemies [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Reaping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Meet Thariin Kres, District Eight.</p><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/oc3Cq89P97Y">Lux Aeterna</a> by Clint Mansell, Kronos Quartet</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>_____</p>
<p>The spider on the ceiling stared at Riin like it owned the place. Its blue-grey body was sleek and hairless, spanning about four inches across, including its legs. Early morning light glistened off its bulbous abdomen and venomous fangs. <em>You’re in my house now, Widow.</em> Removing the elastic hairband from her sleek, dark ponytail, Riin stretched it between her fingers, aiming at the spider; she released, and it fell from its perch with a <em>thump</em> onto the wooden floor. Within a heartbeat, Riin had crushed it under her boot. </p>
<p>She scraped it and the hairband off the floor, cupping the broken carcass in her hands, and made her way into the kitchen. Damn invasive spiders. That was hardly the only one Riin expected to see today; District Eight was covered in them. </p>
<p>Riin’s father was already in the kitchen, fixing up a loaf of bread and cheese for breakfast. “I found another Widow,” Riin said, dumping the spider into a pot he kept by the stove where it would rest with the other Indigo Widow corpses she had squished from previous days. </p>
<p>Her father glanced passively at the dye pot’s newest addition. “Oh, good,” he said. “Maybe I can re-dye your brother’s tie by next reaping.”</p>
<p>Riin frowned, tying her hair back again with the elastic band. “I thought we were going to do my dress. You said you would show me how.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be ungrateful; you just got your sash,” her father admonished. The sash around Riin’s reaping day dress sported the telltale deep indigo color. It had been a gift for her fourteenth birthday; nothing made a statement like wearing the remnants of Panem’s deadliest spider like a trophy. Technically, it could be considered “stealing Capitol merchandise,” but people - and Peacekeepers - had stopped paying attention long ago. Someone had to keep the pests under control, and her mother would hardly arrest her for that.</p>
<p>“I’m the one killing the Widows, not him,” Riin huffed, ripping herself a piece of bread and a slice of cheese. “Where is that lout, anyways? He’s going to make us late.”</p>
<p>Just then, Iden skidded into the kitchen, his eyes wide and tie askew. “There’s a Widow in my room!” </p>
<p>Riin gave her father a pointed stare before turning to her older brother. “So? Just kill it.” He frowned dubiously, and Riin sighed, picking up the cheese knife. He hadn’t gone near the Widows since getting bit by one when he was eleven; Riin and their father had to hold him down, thrashing and screaming, while their mother sucked the venom from the wound.</p>
<p>The Widow was sitting on top of Iden’s white socks; it stood out like red thread on a wedding dress. Riin inched soundlessly towards it, raising the knife. She didn’t want to risk spooking it and having the Widow retreat back into whatever corner it had crawled out of. Only a foot closer...Riin darted toward the spider, impaling its thorax with the double-pronged tip of the cheese knife. Smirking in satisfaction, she picked it up by a spindly leg, holding it in front of her brother’s face as he appeared in the doorway. </p>
<p>“Ahh - hey, you got spider blood on my socks!”</p>
<p>“Your problem, not mine.” She waltzed back into the kitchen, dropping the second Widow into the indigo pot. “I’m surprised he’s even willing to wear the tie,” Riin said as an aside to her father, handing him the cheese knife handle-first. </p>
<p>He made a face at the dirty knife. “Just eat your breakfast, both of you,” he said as Iden reappeared, fully dressed this time. </p>
<p>They ate quietly together, and Riin’s thoughts drifted to today’s reaping. Her mother had allowed Iden to take out two tesserae to pay for his transition surgeries, but Riin hadn’t needed anything that expensive, so she abstained - the privilege of a Peacekeeper’s family. Taking tesserae was not an uncommon practice for the people of District Eight. The money that would’ve been spent on food was used instead for other necessities like medical bills and rent payments, something that Riin’s family had been lucky enough to avoid since she came of reaping age. Riin’s name was only in the pot three times while Iden’s was in eighteen. Not bad odds compared to many people she knew. Riin’s family did their best to ignore the reaping each year; it hadn’t really affected them yet. A few classmates, maybe a friend of a friend’s kid, nothing more. Her mother’s job may be one of the more unpopular ones with the townspeople, but it kept them as safe as anything. As per regulation, Riin’s mother had left early to set up for the reaping ceremony at the square before dawn. </p>
<p>Last year, Riin hadn’t recognized either of the kids that were reaped. Upperclassmen, she knew. Neither had lasted long in the arena. Darkly, Riin hoped Cosima Herkimer would get called this year. It would be nice to get that wench out of her hair; then, maybe, she’d be able to get around school easier without someone whispering and giggling behind her back. </p>
<p>The reaping was at noon, but they had to walk there from across town, which meant they should probably leave now. Her father realized this a second after the thought crossed Riin’s mind; he ushered them out of their apartment, into the hall, and down three flights of stairs to the ground level. They exited the complex and joined the flow of parents, children, and spectators making their way to the square. Riin was glad they lived within walking distance; it would be a pain to wait for a cab or metro to get to the right part of town. This way she got to see the banners, too. </p>
<p>Each family in District Eight designed their own banner for reaping day, stringing them between buildings and over streets in a bountiful display of color. Many chose to detail them with colorful embroidered patterns, especially the seamstresses and designers. </p>
<p>It almost gave the street a joyful holiday feel, if it weren’t for the faces. Families that had lost a child to the Games memorialized them in colored thread, usually accompanied by the year they were reaped. Riin caught a flash or orange in the banner overhanging the cobbler’s shop - the female tribute from two years ago. The crafting of banners for tributes without families was used in the district schools to teach students proper embroidery techniques. Riin’s class had helped sew the border of last year’s banners; she wondered briefly how the other districts paid homage to their fallen. </p>
<p>Today, their path took them down Designer Alley, where countless intricately threaded tapestries floated gracefully above them, swaying in the breeze. Riin particularly liked the deep red one above the tailor’s shop, which portrayed a flat-headed snake sewn with black and silver thread. She thought she even caught some strands of dyed indigo as well. </p>
<p>Riin’s family banner - a deep navy blue color depicting the outline of a dove in light grey thread - was rather lacking at the moment, though she had a feeling her father was considering saving the Widows Riin had caught for the embroidery thread rather than her reaping dress. He had always felt a bit embarrassed about their banner’s lack of detail; a couple more years and he might end up actually fixing it. At least Riin thought that was her mother’s plan, as she’d been gifting him colored thread for his past few birthdays. A year was plenty of time, she mused, to gather enough Widows for her dress and the thread, as the latter shouldn’t take too much. A dove was a silly creature for an emblem anyways. </p>
<p>They drew closer to the square and the family banners were replaced with fluttering hand-embroidered Capitol seals, an impressive display of patriotism, no matter that it was the product of forced labor. Riin and Iden separated from their father, heading to their respective reaping pens with solemn glances; she was glad they put Iden into the correct one this year. </p>
<p>Nestled safely within the throng of fourteen year-old girls, Riin glanced up at her other favorite set of banners: the Victor’s portraits. Finely detailed and exquisitely colored, they spoke of the labor of a community, depicting each of District Eight’s past Victors. The newest portraits were the most visible, though they were each easily over twenty years old by now. District Eight had only two living Victors. Both Janus Shyle and Barnabas Flink were in their late thirties or early forties, relatively close in age, already sitting on the reaping stage, the former making idle chatter with their Capitol escort. Unfortunately, they had long been unsuccessful in returning District Eight’s tributes home. From what Riin could tell, this bothered neither of them.</p>
<p>Casting her gaze over the heads of her peers, Riin made the mistake of catching Cosima Herkimer’s eye in the crowd, her sleek blonde hair and frilly pink dress standing out like a sore thumb. Smirking, wretched wench nudged the girl next to her, pointing at Riin. Three other heads turned towards Riin’s direction, and Cosima mimed picking a slip from the reaping bowl, clearly mouthing Riin’s name across the distance separating them. </p>
<p>Riin scowled at her, feeling her nose wrinkle in a snarl while their tittering laughter rose lightly above the muffled din of the crowd. She wanted to shrink into her dress and slap the smile off Cosima’s stupidly pretty face at the same time. </p>
<p>The bell atop the Justice Building tolled twelve, interrupting Riin’s unpleasant train of thought, and their escort disengaged from her conversation. Unlike most of the escorts Riin had seen from other districts’ reaping ceremonies, Scilla Draxas exhibited none of the Capitol’s typical bubbliness. Everything about her, from her demeanor to her unusually silver skin tone, could be described as cold and metallic. Most of Riin’s peers detested Scilla’s obvious callousness, but Riin preferred it to the obnoxiously perky behavior of most Capitolites that she’d seen during Hunger Games programmes. Scilla stood with her feet evenly spaced, sunlight glinting off the silver chain-links in her tunic and her chrome skin tone, almost blinding to behold. “District Eight. The time has come again to make your sacrifice to the Capitol. Happy Hunger Games,” she said with no introduction. Her accent was soft but dangerous, reminding the people of District Eight that they were about to lose two of their own. First, though, she introduced the district mayor, who recited the history of Panem and the First and Second Treaties of Treason. The two treaties were all that remained of past revolutions; Riin hoped there wouldn’t be another one in her lifetime, as that would add another thirty minutes to the already drawn-out reaping ceremony. </p>
<p>“-Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever,” the mayor concluded, conceding the stage back to Scilla, who practically shooed her away. </p>
<p>Scilla read out the short list of District Eight’s living Victors, Janus and Barnabas bowing respectively as their names were called. The people gave them due applause; they were the lucky ones. “What a depressingly short list,” Scilla noted discourteously. “Hm. Too much to hope it will get longer anytime soon.”</p>
<p>Riin scowled on the inside, annoyed that she was probably right. Whatever guidance the past Victors offered, it seemed to lead their tributes to their deaths within the first hour of the Games. It had been years since one of their tributes made it to the final eight; the memory was fuzzy in Riin’s mind as she had been six or seven years old then. </p>
<p>“Your male tribute,” Scilla said, addressing the crowd as she reached into the reaping bowl, “is Karl Taylor.” </p>
<p>There was a pause, and then a voice from the crowd of seventeen year-old boys. “W-what, no. That’s not possible-” The crowd parted and a burly dark-skinned boy stumbled into the walkway up to the stage. That must be Taylor. He wasn’t crying, but looked to be in a state of shock. Riin heard quiet sobbing from somewhere within the spectators; his family, presumably. Scilla gave him an appraising look as he stepped up to the stage, no doubt wondering how well he’d perform in the arena. Riin was admittedly thinking the same thing. Physically, he appeared fairly formidable, though Riin knew little about his personality as they were too far in age to have encountered each other in school. </p>
<p>Nobody stepped up to volunteer, so Scilla continued. “And your female tribute,” she said, snagging a slip from the opposing bowl with her metallic hand, “is Thariin Kres.”
</p>
<p>Riin’s eyes widened as she recognized her full name. This was not good. This was really not good, this was-</p>
<p>Her legs seemed to move on their own, and the cluster of girls within which she had hidden divided to let her through. Scilla met her eyes with a look that reminded Riin of the Widow she had shot from the ceiling this morning, and Riin wiped the surprise from her face, determined not to let the unnaturally glinting woman rattle her. Scilla’s eyes flicked over Riin’s form as she mounted the stage; the escort flashed a pleased smile at her indigo sash. Clearly, she was more satisfied than usual with this year’s tributes. Riin kept her visage a stone mask of indifference as she gazed out over the crowd, finding Iden’s shocked expression. Neither he nor her father within the group of spectators let out a cry of protest. Scanning the barrier of armed Peacekeepers, Riin could not tell which white armored figure hid her mother’s presence. Briefly, she glimpsed Cosima’s expression from the group of fourteen year-olds; at least the girl had the decency to look a little bit guilty. </p>
<p>Scilla called for volunteers. Nothing. That was it, then. </p>
<p>“District Eight, your tributes for the One Hundred and Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games!” </p>
<p>Riin and Taylor shook hands as required, Taylor’s grip limp as wet spaghetti. He was scared, then. Good. He was her enemy now. Every person worth noting from here on would be an enemy. She needed to adopt this mindset immediately, or her chances of survival were slim to none. </p>
<p>Riin didn’t wait to be shoved by Peacekeepers to exit the stage through the Justice Building. They flanked her anyways, guiding her to a private room where she would say her good-byes to family and friends. Well, just family in her case; she wasn’t close enough with any of her classmates to warrant a personalized goodbye. </p>
<p>One of the Peacekeepers stayed in the room when the door closed; so much for privacy. The door opened a heartbeat later, letting her father and Iden in. Where was -- </p>
<p>The Peacekeeper locked the door and removed their helmet, revealing her mother’s tear-stained face. She quickly swept her daughter into a hug, easily lifting Riin’s tiny body off the ground. Riin was surprised; she couldn’t remember the last time her mother had cried, if ever. She supposed it was easier to hide under a faceless helmet. She couldn’t breathe for a minute, her mother was hugging her so tight; her throat suddenly felt raw, the beginnings of tears prickling at her own eyes. <em>No, stop. You can’t cry. Not now.</em> Biting her lip, Riin held back the tears, the stiff plates of her mother’s armor poking uncomfortably into her stomach and cheek. “I’m so sorry, Riin. I’m so sorry, I tried to make them change it, I-” She choked back a sob and released her daughter shakily, and Riin was enveloped by her father, and then Iden. Neither of them were crying, still more shocked than anything. </p>
<p>Three times, her name had been in the running. Three out of however many tens of thousands of other names, tesserae and all. </p>
<p>“It’s not fair, this shouldn’t be able to happen,” her mother was saying, but Riin barely heard her.</p>
<p>Her father was on the verge of tears; she could hear it in his voice. “Oh, Riin, my darling,” he said, cradling Riin’s face in his hands and placing a kiss on her forehead. He stepped back, clutching his wife’s hand for support like he was the one being sent to die and not Riin. </p>
<p>“It’s not fair,” Iden echoed their mother, his lip trembling. “They should take someone else instead. Someone who could actually-” he cut himself off. </p>
<p>Their goodbyes sounded so final. Her family had always been realists; the odds had been low for either her or Iden getting reaped, and they were even lower for her surviving. “Could what?” she asked pointedly. “Could actually win? You haven’t even asked me to try.”</p>
<p>She was met with silence and wide eyes. That hurt. </p>
<p>It wasn’t like Riin had high hopes for making it out of the arena, but she wasn’t about to lay over and die. No doubt she was small and weak compared to her competitors, and far too young; the last fourteen year-old to win the Games had been before the Second Rebellion, and he had been a Career to boot. It was cruel to expect her family to indulge in such faithless hope, only to watch her die mercilessly on live television. Some part of her did, anyways; wasn’t that what family was supposed to do? That was the whole point of the Hunger Games. </p>
<p>“What, nothing?” Riin spat accusingly. “You’ve already picked out the colors for my banner, haven’t you? I <em>swear</em> if you pick orange, I’m-“ She cut herself off; suddenly she couldn’t speak anymore, her lip was trembling so much. In danger of bursting into tears herself, she clamped her mouth shut, trying to breathe evenly. </p>
<p>Her family didn’t have an answer for her. The door opened and another Peacekeeper poked their head in, signaling that her time was up. Her parents and Iden gave her one more quick, tight hug before they left, and Riin accepted it; this would likely be the last time she saw them, after all. Riin’s mother donned her helmet, her misery and tears disappearing under the might of the Capitol. She escorted her husband and son out of the room, and then Riin as she had no other visitors, joining her partner on Riin’s flank. Riin was acutely aware of her mother’s presence as she was guided to the train station. She boarded the train without looking back, ignoring the light pressure on her shoulder from her mother’s glove.</p>
<p>_____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AN: Alright friends, I'm gonna be honest with you. This is absolutely not the original universe that these characters of mine belong in. However, last summer, this AU took root in my brain and would not let go. Setting it so far into the future was lowkey just my excuse to not have to deal with writing any of the book characters (sorry)..I just wanted to write a hunger games au with my OCs ;__; (Well. Mainly Riin). It also allows me to do a bit of world-building here /cracks knuckles/. If you've gotten this far and you're enjoying it, I've got some good new for you: this thing is mostly all written out! I'm hoping that posting the first chapter will inspire me to actually write up the scenes I'd skipped over lol. The arena, the ending, and all the gory scenes in-between are all planned and for the most part written. No spoilers, though (:</p><p>If you have any thoughts or comments - or even criticisms - I would absolutely love to hear your reactions! I am so curious as to what you guys think of Riin just from this (and from the rest of the story as it goes).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Train</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's a long way to the Capitol. Better make the best of it.</p><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/g_RqZ2ZFywc">Mirtazapine</a> by IAMX</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>_____</p><p>There was no more time to be miserable over leaving her family behind. Riin focused on breathing, in through her nose, out through her mouth; all of her attention needed to be directed towards her upcoming fight for survival. That was the only thing that mattered. </p><p>The luxurious pressed-velvet walls of the train car didn’t matter. The glittering chandeliers and porcelain vases overflowing with colorful flowers she didn’t recognize didn’t matter. The towering piles of cakes, steaming bowls of stew and snow-white pilafs of rice - okay those did matter. Riin was too small as it was; she could use some extra weight. The two Victors seated around the table mattered as well; in fact they were the most important feature of the room. Currently, they were engaged in chatter about the upcoming visit to the Capitol, though neither of them mentioned the Games. </p><p>Janus’s dark gaze briefly met her eyes as she walked into the car hesitantly, sizing her up. She returned the favor. </p><p>Up close, it was easy to see him as the Victor of a killing pageant. He held himself with such a cold confidence that it was difficult to imagine him as anything else. His impeccably tailored violet suit contrasted well with his dark skin, and he steepled his fingers under his chin as he observed the incoming tributes. Barnabas, however, didn’t pay either of them much attention. Shorter and stockier than his companion, his cheeks were already visibly ruddy as he downed what Riin doubted was his first glass of wine. </p><p>Behind her, Karl Taylor entered the main car, his eyes dancing around the room in wonder at the blatant display of wealth. “This is incredible,” he breathed, appearing entranced by the decor, nosing around the finer pieces of fabrics and textures. <em>Easily distracted by pretty things,</em> Riin noted. To his credit, he looked like he’d been able to hold back the tears during his goodbyes. </p><p>“They want to impress us before they slaughter us,” she said nonchalantly. The tribute’s face fell instantly, reminded of the reality of his current predicament. Unnerving him boosted her confidence, if only by a small fraction. Her gaze flicked between Taylor and the Victors as she seated herself at the table across from the latter. She filled the plate in front of her with meats and bread as Scilla graced the dining car with her presence, a martini glass in hand. The escort took a seat on one of the plush couches, content to remain quiet; Riin ignored her. </p><p>Taylor, on the other hand, glanced at the metallic woman uneasily as he edged around the table and couches, moving towards the end of the car. “Right, where can I…”</p><p>Scilla waved a hand in Taylor’s direction. “Your quarters are down the hall,” she said brusquely. </p><p>The train began to move, though Riin barely felt its smooth motion. Riin followed Taylor’s departure closely; the second he was out of earshot, she snapped her attention to the Victors. “Tell me how to win.”</p><p>Janus’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and a smile of incredulity twitched on Barnabas’s thin lip. Riin glared at them; this was their job, and while they were pretty shit at bringing tributes back alive, both had somehow managed to do so for themselves. Janus inspected her from his seat, steepling his fingers again. “I like your...determination.”</p><p>Barnabas scoffed. “You can’t be serious, Janus. Look at her.”</p><p>“You didn’t answer my question.” Riin directed her comment at Janus now.</p><p>Janus frowned at her. “Impatient, are we?”</p><p>“I’m running on borrowed time.” Riin didn’t even know what she needed to do, but she should’ve been doing it as soon as her name was pulled from the reaping bowl. Hell, maybe sooner. That was what Careers did, wasn’t it? </p><p>“Fine, then.” Janus turned to his companion. “I’ll mentor this one and you get the boy.” Barnabas grunted in assent. </p><p>“Taylor isn’t here right now,” Riin protested. She needed both of them. </p><p>Janus chuckled, a grin splitting his face. “That wouldn’t be fair, now, would it?”</p><p>She scowled. “I don’t care.” </p><p>“You don’t get to decide,” Barnabas growled, and Riin glared at the heavyset man. </p><p>“Now, Barnabas,” Janus chided. “You’ve got the right idea there.” He pointed at Riin’s full plate. “You’ll need the extra pounds.” Using her fork, she scooped a chunk of meat onto a slice of bread and dug into her meal in earnest. Janus used the opportunity to regal her with advice. “Your most important task when you’re in the arena will be finding water. Everyone else will have to worry about that as well, so be wary of obvious sources of water, as they will attract other tributes.”</p><p>“Not if they don’t know to find water,” she pointed out when her mouth wasn’t full of food. </p><p>“Assume they will. Assume each tribute is a threat and act accordingly.” </p><p>Riin paused her meal. “Should I not seek allies, then?” Non-Career allies tended to have a better chance of making it to the final eight, at least. </p><p>“That remains to be seen.” Janus paused, glancing at Barnabas. “You’ll want to make allies with the thought of killing them later on in mind.” </p><p>She nodded; it was cold, but nothing less than what she expected. Allies were useful until they were competition. Speaking of, she didn’t even know who her competition was yet. The other reaping ceremonies must have concluded by now, and should be available for her viewing soon. She tried not to let the flutter of fear in her stomach at the thought of her competitors overtake her mind.</p><p>Janus’s advice also brought up the question that Riin had been wanting to avoid: would she be able to kill someone, given the chance? The idea gnawed at her; how bendable were her morals? What would it feel like, to take someone’s life? She would find out soon enough. Though, the more she thought about it, the idea of killing someone scared her less than the possibility that she would be morally unable to do so. </p><p>And worse yet, the thought of dying at another tribute’s hands… The temperature of the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Riin took a sip of water to clear her head. </p><p>Janus continued his lecture. “I want you to watch the other districts’ reapings tonight and see who fits those criteria and who to avoid at all costs. It should go without saying to stay away from the Careers.”</p><p>Riin scoffed. “Obviously.” She finished her piece of bread and prepared herself another.</p><p>That narrowed down about a third of the tributes, all of whom would most likely still be alive after the initial Bloodbath. Eight tributes that would hopefully kill themselves before Riin had to worry about them. </p><p>Starting after the Second Rebellion, District Three had begun providing the annual Hunger Games with fully-trained Career tributes, usually more clever and quick-witted than those from One, Two, and Four. Supposedly, the agreement had come as a reward for District Three’s loyalty to the Capitol during the rebellion, sustaining their forces with high-tech weapons that easily crushed the rebels. Rebels which had primarily originated within her own district, District Twelve, and the fully-revived District Thirteen. Their efforts had been for nothing; almost a hundred years later, the Hunger Games continued and Panem reigned stronger than ever. </p><p>“Tell me, Thariin,” Janus said. “Do you have any particular talent with weapons of any sort?”</p><p>That, Riin thought, was one of the biggest things running against her. “Not yet,” she admitted. </p><p>Janus hummed in disappointment. “A shame.”</p><p>Riin wasn’t going to be dismissed that easily. She doubted that either Janus or Barnabas had trained before their Games, and they still won. With a cloth napkin, Riin cleaned off the knife she had been using to cut her meat. “Teach me how to throw these.”</p><p>Barnabas barked a laugh. “You’ve got training sessions for that, girl. You really think you can learn properly in a single night?”</p><p>“You really think I can learn properly in three days?” Riin shot back, rising from her seat. </p><p>Janus glanced at Barnabas in amusement. “She’s got a point there.” He picked up his own steak knife, drawing Scilla’s attention to the proceedings. </p><p>“Don’t hit the vases; they came out of my paycheck.”</p><p>Janus saluted the metallic-skinned escort with the knife, turning to Riin. “Step over here, away from the table.” She followed him to the row of couches across from Scilla, the plush furnishings standing between them and the wall. “No targets yet, focus on getting it to stick first.” He showed her how to find the balance of the knife, then how to grip it properly. “There are many types of grips, but I find this to be the easiest. There, good. And throw it like this.” He demonstrated with a flick of his wrist, sending the knife point-first into the soft, velvet wall. </p><p>That didn’t look too difficult. Riin copied his movements; her knife spun towards the wall, hitting with the shaft first and recoiling backwards, skittering on the floor. She glared at it resentfully, and Scilla chuckled behind her. </p><p>“Don’t worry, that was only your first try,” Janus said reassuringly. “You released a bit too soon. Try again.” He passed her another knife from the table and she gripped it how he had shown her before. Positioning herself, she squared her shoulders and threw the knife, waiting an extra half-heartbeat before releasing it. It stuck this time, though only about a foot from the ground. “Better. Again.”</p><p>She grabbed the remaining two knives from the table, snatching one from Barnabas’s hand and, ignoring his indignant grunt, wiped them clean. Following the same motions, she flung them both at the wall; the first landed closer to Janus’s knife. The second blade clattered to the floor. </p><p>“Not bad. Go pick them up; I want to tell you something.” </p><p>She did so obediently, plucking the three from the wall and gathering the two from the floor. She returned them to Janus, who held one up for her to see. </p><p>“They won’t tell you this in training, so listen carefully.” As if she hadn’t been already. “If you manage to get your hands on a knife, don’t forget to grab the sheath too. There are many ways to conceal a knife, but without the sheath, it will be more difficult to hide your weapons from enemies and allies if needed.” </p><p>Riin untied the indigo sash from her dress. “Could this work if I don’t?”</p><p>Janus held out his hand and she passed him the sash. He inspected it thoroughly, stretching it and testing its durability. “It’s not ideal; the knife could cut right through it. But it’s better than nothing.” The fabric was almost wide enough to cover the length of the blade; Janus wrapped it twice around the knife and pulled back his sleeve, securing the sash and knife around his wrist with the handle pointing outwards. Replacing his sleeve, Janus moved his arm, rotating his wrist to test the mechanism’s comfort. Satisfied, he grabbed the knife with lightning speed and flung it at the wall. “Not bad,” he appraised, though with the removal of the knife, the makeshift sheath had come undone. Janus removed the sash from his wrist; thankfully, it was undamaged by the drawing of the blade. He handed it back to Riin, instructing her how to wrap the knife and tie the sheath to her own wrist. </p><p>“What if I can’t get to a knife?” she asked. A very real possibility; Riin wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d get the pick of the weapons at the Cornucopia. </p><p>“Keep practicing while we talk,” Janus commanded. Riin threw another knife; it bounced uselessly off the wall. “Too soon. Your best hope would be to find a sharp rock or stick, or collect one from another tribute’s corpse. Or you could strangle them with the sash.” </p><p>Riin nodded, sending another blade spinning towards the wall. It stuck, as did the following one, though they were at least a foot and a half apart. “Will they let me bring it in?”</p><p>“Good, and I will have to convince them,” Janus admitted. Riin hoped they would. She didn’t have anything else from home.</p><p>“How much do you know about poisonous plants or insects? In the right hands, they can prove as deadly as any blade.”</p><p>“Not much,” Riin said, releasing her last knife. It stuck poorly, landing about an inch from the crease between the floor and the wall. “Not many plants in the city, and the only bug I worry about is the Widow.” She picked her way around the couches toward the target wall, gathering the steak knives, taking her place next to Janus and facing the wall. </p><p>“Judging by the sash, you’re quite good at worrying about Widows,” he quipped. “I’d recommend learning about the others, if only so you don’t accidentally make a meal of nightlock berries.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at Janus; every child in Panem knew about nightlock berries and the role they played in the Second Rebellion. The Capitol hadn’t included them in any arena since. “Just testing you,” Janus said, pleased that she had caught on. </p><p>Aiming for one of the rips in the wall from Janus’s knives, Riin threw another. It landed closer than she expected, about six inches away. She allowed herself a pleased smile. “So knives and plants when I get to the training sessions,” she stated.</p><p>“You’ll want to focus on hand-to-hand as well, and close-in fighting with a knife,” he said. “Concealing your skills only works when you have them. You need to learn, not show off.”</p><p>Riin glowered at Janus, annoyed because he was right. Her previous lifestyle, while comfortable compared to many in her district and others, put her at a severe disadvantage. The bustling city streets and textile factories contributed nothing to the survival skills necessary in the arena. She’d never had to forage for food, or build her own shelter, or even start a fire with anything but matches. She was fortunate in never having to handle muggers or other miscreants in the darker parts of the city. Her mother had made sure she and Iden had taken self-defense classes, but that was years ago; whatever skill she’d possessed had no doubt waned from disuse. She was fast enough to earn herself a place on her school’s track team and nimble enough to combat the Indigo Widows plaguing her family’s apartment, but that was about it. “And survival skills?” she asked, ignoring Janus’s jibe. </p><p>“Know them like the back of your hand,” he affirmed. “Why have you stopped throwing knives? I thought you wanted to learn.” </p><p>Riin brought her attention back to the four remaining knives in her hand. Concentrating on the one that was already in the wall, she threw them in quick succession. Only one stuck relatively close; a second landed a good couple feet away while the others ricocheted off the velvet. </p><p>Janus glided back to his seat next to Barnabas as Riin recovered the knives. “Keep practicing. I’ll be having a drink with Barnabas.” He was entitled to that, she supposed. </p><p>She threw the first knife decently; it landed close enough to the target she had been aiming for. Deciding to change things up a bit, Riin switched the next knife to her left hand, sending it at the wall with slightly less confidence. It stuck well enough, and Riin kept up the change, rotating out hands so she got practice with both. Four out of the five stuck this time, and she gathered the knives to set herself up again. </p><p>Five throws, then retrieve the knives, then throw again, and retrieve. Adjust grip so they stick more often, throw, retrieve. Switch hands, throw, switch again, retrieve. The pattern was easy to fall into; Riin’s focus was concentrated only on the task, not the other tributes, or the Capitol, or even the Games themselves. She hardly noticed the Victors or Scilla moving about behind her, chatting or eating. She threw a knife, and it stuck. Changing targets, she threw another one; it stuck as well, though not exactly at the target. From watching past Hunger Games all her life, Riin had seen people throw knives before. There was a sort of cross-body motion she seemed to remember, and she tried that out, unsuccessfully at first, but she was determined. The knives stuck a few times, and Riin retrieved them and tried again, this time switching up the way she threw them. Throw and retrieve, throw and retrieve. This time, all the blades stuck, varying distances from her target. The next time, not so much. She picked them up again; the poor velvet wall was more tattered than her mother’s old reaping dress. </p><p>The lighting in the train car changed to a more artificial glow, and Riin realized the sun must’ve set already. The sound of knives hitting the wall blended with the background conversation between Scilla and the Victors. She kept throwing, hoping to work on her accuracy this time around. </p><p>Riin continued changing between targets, throws, and hands, interspersed by retrieving the knives. She was so entranced by her task that she hardly noticed Janus calling for her attention. </p><p>“Thariin. Thariin, would you please join us for dinner? You’ve been hard at work; you can pause for a few minutes.”</p><p>Riin had one more knife in her hands. “Of course,” she said, pegging it at the wall. The blade joined its fellows sticking into the wall, and Riin yanked them out with satisfaction, depositing them at the table. </p><p>Her plate from before was gone, as were the platters of cakes and meats; they had been replaced with an even larger selection of delicacies, stews, and even an entire roasted duck. She cut herself a large chunk of the bird, spooning rice and vegetable stew onto her plate as well. A single bite of the decadent meal made her realize just how hungry she was. With as much dignity as she could manage, Riin shoveled the whole dish down her throat, reaching for seconds when she was finished. She didn’t worry about stealing someone else’s portion; there was more than enough for the whole train to take thirds. </p><p>“You’ve done quite well, Thariin,” Janus commented. “It seems knife-throwing comes to you quite naturally.”</p><p>Riin frowned, pausing between bites. “I missed more than half of them,” she argued. “Not nearly good enough.”</p><p>Janus waved a hand dismissively. “That’s to be expected, you’re just starting. There’s plenty of time to practice during training.”</p><p>“Don’t lie to me to make me feel better.”</p><p>“I have no need to lie to you, Thariin.” Maybe his words were true, but underneath the false gentleness in his tone ran a current of steel, his eyes hard as flint, a reminder of who was more likely to be alive in the coming weeks. Janus lost nothing by ignoring her; he had no stake in her survival while she had everything to lose. She needed him on her side. It was best not to antagonize him. </p><p>Taylor chose the perfect moment to rejoin them for dinner; he entered the train car looking freshly showered and perked up at the sight of still-steaming platters. “Oh, wonderful,” he said, pulling out a chair next to Riin and filling a plate with everything he could see. They ate in silence for the next few minutes, before Taylor noticed the shredded velvet wall on the far side of the car. “What happened there?” he asked, pointing at the destroyed lining with his fork. </p><p>Scilla and the Victors said nothing; it was up to Riin then. “How am I supposed to know,” she snapped, and Taylor frowned. Neither Barnabas nor Janus revealed her, the latter catching her eye knowingly. </p><p>Scilla snickered and took a drink from her martini. “Ah, I love my job,” she sighed. </p><p>“Did I miss something?” Taylor whispered aside to Riin. She shrugged innocently. She wasn’t planning on telling him. “So,” he said to the table. “How are we supposed to win this thing?”</p><p>“You’re a little late to that one, kid,” Barnabas said grumpily, jutting his chin at Riin. </p><p>“So you’ve questioned them already,” Taylor acknowledged. He didn’t seem offended; the opposite in fact. “You’re pretty on top of things. Should we stick together, then?”</p><p>Riin’s fork paused on its way to her mouth. So he wanted an alliance. Was this a good idea? She didn’t know how easily she’d be able to kill him, maybe if she cut his throat while he was sleeping… Then again, it would be easier still to accept now and then desert him as soon as the starting gong went off. “That’s fine by me,” she said, meeting Janus’s eyes again. His expression was unreadable; this decision was hers. “Have you seen the other reapings yet?” Taylor shook his head. “Can we put them on here?” The question was directed at the adults. </p><p>“Of course,” Janus said evenly. “Scilla, if you would?”</p><p>The chrome-skinned woman produced a remote device from somewhere Riin couldn’t see and hit a button; a projector on the far side of the wall lit up with the seal of Panem, the nation’s anthem sounding within the train. </p><p>District One played first, unsurprisingly. Two volunteers, both built like bricks. Could easily snap Riin’s neck with one hand. Careers, obviously. Wonderful. District Two was much of the same, no doubt dangerous, but unsurprising in their aggressive demeanor. Hopefully they would be predictable. Predictable people were easy to manipulate. </p><p>The volunteers from Three were more wiry, but looked just as vicious. They were likely to be the brains of the pack, and just as likely to turn on them first. Riin wondered if they could be convinced to do so sooner, eliminating either themselves or some of the other Careers. A thought to keep in mind. </p><p>District Four’s Careers volunteered just as quickly, and Taylor let out a nervous breath. “There’s so many of them.” No one responded, watching silently as the tributes shook hands with confident grins on their faces.  </p><p>The reaping ceremony of District Five was a much more miserable show, both tributes crying as they stood on stage, the weight of their imminent deaths threatening to crush them. District Six was much more interesting; the female tribute - a pale, bald girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen with dark tattoos covering her arms and skull - gazed out at the crowd with an angry sort of snarl. An ally, maybe? Or just another enemy… Either way, Riin knew she wouldn’t go down without a brutal fight. Glancing at Janus, Riin saw him silently appraising the tribute; was he wondering the same thing she was? She made a note to ask him later. </p><p>District Seven’s reaping was a sad affair; the Peacekeepers had to hold back a large family of small children from chasing after their brother. Then Riin was watching her own. Taylor was called first, and Riin noticed his tightened jaw as he sat next to her, staring at himself on the projector screen. Then Scilla called her own name, and Riin watched her slim form part the crowd and make her way to the stage. Her face was cold and unreadable. Riin was relieved; the other tributes no doubt watching the reaping recaps would see only the weakness in her frame. Hopefully that would be enough to make the stronger ones ignore her. </p><p>The ceremonies for Nine and Ten proceeded the same as they usually did, crying tributes, wailing parents, the whole nine yards. Riin wondered how she would fare in a fight against either of them, and then she wondered how that could be improved with a knife in hand. </p><p>District Eleven’s male tribute looked about her size; small enough that Riin figured she could handle him up close. The girl, though, looked more determined, her chin held high as she glared at her escort and then the cameras. Riin would keep an eye on her. </p><p>The screen changed to District Twelve’s reaping, and Riin wondered if she’d be able to find allies among these tributes. Twelve’s secondary industry in medicine had begun after the Second Rebellion, and their tributes tended to reflect these skills, providing invaluable assets to any tribute, even the Career pack in some cases. Or they could be utterly useless, with none of the skills required to keep themselves alive, let alone anyone else. Riin couldn’t tell just by looking at the two dark-haired kids on the stage; she would have to wait until she could interact with them to find out. </p><p>The last set of tributes from Thirteen were a rather odd bunch; they looked joined at the hip, despite the male tribute’s confused expression. His name stood out like a sore thumb: Victor. The poor kid seemed like anything but. It was arrogant, really, the kind of name Riin might expect to see in District Two. Meanwhile, this kid - teenager, actually - looked as if he had gotten lost and somehow wandered up onto the reaping stage, and neither of the tributes protested at being led away by Peacekeepers. The seal of Panem replaced their screen as an upbeat rendition of the anthem played again, switching gears to a talk-show stream featuring the official Hunger Games announcer rattling on about how excited they were. </p><p>There was a pause before Janus requested that Scilla turn the screen off. </p><p>“I’m watching it,” she snapped. </p><p>“Mute it and put on the damn subtitles,” Barnabas grumbled. “I can't stand that announcer’s voice.”</p><p>Taylor turned to Riin. “What do you think?” </p><p>All of the tributes, with few exceptions, were larger than her and older. In fact, thanks to the Capitol’s helpful sidebar stats on each tribute, Riin had noticed that she was the youngest one. The boy from Eleven was fifteen, small for his age, but he still had a whole year on her. She didn’t know if Taylor had caught on to that, but she didn’t point it out. Instead, she focused on the more obvious problem. “We need to figure out how to get rid of the Careers.”</p><p>Taylor’s face turned slightly green at the mention of them. “Is it too much to hope they’ll just kill each other first?”</p><p>“One is easier to deal with than eight, but we’ll still have to avoid them.”</p><p>“And their hunting parties,” Taylor added nervously. Riin wished he hid his apprehension better; it put a sinking feeling in her stomach. She picked at the grains of rice on her plate. </p><p>“Did you spot any potential allies?” Janus inquired. </p><p>Riin considered the ceremonies she had just seen before answering. “The pair from Twelve, if they have knowledge of healing,” she said finally. “Possibly the girl from Six. She looks dangerous. And the girl from Eleven.”</p><p>Taylor cocked his head. “What about Thirteen? They looked...interesting.”</p><p>Riin sniffed a laugh. “Are you kidding? They’re bound to be bad luck. Nothing good can come from a tribute named ‘Victor.’ They look like they’ll wander straight into a Career’s path anyways, and I won’t be there when they do.”</p><p>“They were quite a unique pair,” Janus commented. “They could be hiding something, which you won’t find out unless you speak with them.”</p><p>Perhaps she’d judged them too harshly; then again, you could say that about every tribute. “Fair point,” she conceded. </p><p>Janus stood from his seat. “Riin, if you’ll come with me. You haven’t seen your room yet.” </p><p>Riin didn’t care about her room, and she highly doubted that Janus did either. He wanted to tell her something privately. </p><p>She followed him obediently, ignoring Taylor’s confused look. He led her out of the dining car and down the corridor, nothing she couldn’t have found for herself. The door to her room slid open, and Janus stepped back, allowing her to enter first. </p><p>Riin had lived rather comfortably in District Eight, but she’d never seen anything like this. The entire room bled of luxury. There were more pillows on that bed than in her entire house. Even by normal standards, the space was large; it was hard to believe it all fit into a train. Two other doors decorated the walls, likely concealing a closet and bathroom. She began to move towards one, then stopped, remembering her company. Janus has brought her here to talk. The room wasn’t important; his words, however, were. </p><p>“You’ll want to consider choosing the weakest allies, like the boy from Eleven, or those from Nine, Ten, or Five,” he said softly. Riin’s look of confusion must’ve prompted further explanation. “Gain their trust, and foster a dependence on yourself. Seeking them out will give them hope. It will draw them to yourself, and they’ll be that much easier to eliminate.”</p><p>Riin wasn’t sure if she could pull that off. It was complicated, but the more she thought about it, the more the idea made sense. Assuming they wouldn’t all get killed in the initial Bloodbath. She nodded in agreement. </p><p>“Good. Now what do you plan on doing with your District partner?”</p><p>She was still wondering that herself. “I don’t want him to see me as an enemy,” she said. “I was going to play along until the Games started, and then get as far as I can from him.”</p><p>Janus considered her plan thoughtfully. “You’ll run into problems if he’s still alive,” he pointed out. </p><p>That was true enough. Riin thought for a minute. “If I can convince him to try and grab something from the Cornucopia, he’d probably get killed in the Bloodbath. And if not, now we’ll have supplies.”</p><p>“Very clever,” Janus praised. “And your allies? They will think of Karl as an ally as well.”</p><p>“Not necessarily a bad thing,” Riin said, considering Taylor. “He’s large and trusting. I can keep an eye on him and make sure he dies early.”</p><p>She could tell that Janus wasn’t exactly pleased with this plan, but he didn’t argue. “We should discuss the image you want to portray,” he said, changing the topic. “Unfortunately, this will be influenced by what your stylist has planned for the tribute parade, and I have no knowledge of their plans.”</p><p>“I don’t want to stand out too much,” she said, apprehensive. District Eight’s stylist tended to be a hit or miss. </p><p>“No, but you don’t want the sponsors to forget about you. It’s a delicate balance.” He continued, “Somehow I doubt you can pull off the ’innocent little girl’ angle.”</p><p>“Why not?” Riin said, affronted. </p><p>Janus chuckled. “You’re not nice. You already looked ready to kill poor Karl at the reaping ceremony.”</p><p>She glared at him. “Fine.” He wasn’t exactly wrong. </p><p>“We can finish this conversation later,” Janus said, dismissing himself. “I’ll have an Avox send you some knives to practice.” She nodded and he took his leave. Five minutes later a knock sounded on her door, and, as promised, a servant stood in the frame, holding a tray of five knives. Snatching up the blades, she thanked the servant and resolved to practice for the rest of the night. </p><p>Fiddling with the remote controls on the bedside table, she set the reaping ceremonies to project onto the wall for background noise, using the images of her fellow tributes as targets. She managed about two and a half rewatches through before she had to stop and crawl under the covers to sleep. At least she’d tired herself out enough not to dwell on the sense of impending dread.<br/>
_____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know if I'll be able to keep a regular update schedule, but I'm thinking once a week. And I like Sundays.. we'll see how that goes. </p><p>And we've got Riin gearing up for the competition! As you may have noticed, I've taken some liberties with the worldbuilding again :D What do you guys think of brining 13 into the fold? Two extra tributes in the arena.. I wonder how that'll work out (: </p><p>As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions on the fic so far !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Mad Stylist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In case anyone's been having trouble with Riin's name, 'Thariin' is pronounced like 'THAH-' (rhymes with the Egyptian sun god, Ra, no relation) '-rin' (rhymes with 'sin' or 'fin'; the double I's make more sense in her usual iteration)</p><p>'Kres' rhymes with 'dress' lol</p><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/7lUgqeO1ZxM">Welcome to Lunar Industries</a> by Clint Mansell</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin woke with a knife in hand, still dressed in her reaping clothes.</p><p>They would arrive in the Capitol today. Then, the tribute parade would begin, and the One Hundred and Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games would commence in full swing. So much sophistication and style for such a brutal affair.</p><p>Checking the time, Riin saw she had a couple hours before breakfast was over. At least she assumed so; no one had bothered to give her a schedule. She placed the knife by her bedside table and scooted off the comforter, deciding to find the shower. If Scilla and the others got irritated at her for being late, that was their own fault.</p><p>The shower provided here was much grander than the rusty little faucet back home; it consisted of a whole room, and again she found it difficult to justify this scale of luxury for a simple train ride. There were too many buttons for her to even think of knowing what to do with them, though she hit some to test the water before stepping inside. A good thing she did; violent jets of water shot upwards from the shower floor and from the sides of the contraption. <em>Is this really necessary?</em> Playing around with the controls, she finally found something that somewhat resembled a shower and took her time scrubbing yesterday’s grit from her skin. Upon exiting, she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and was greeted with a warm current of air through her scalp. She flinched before realizing it was only drying her hair; her raven-colored locks floated gracefully over her shoulders before settling at the small of her back.</p><p>Turning her attention to the closet, Riin selected a dark blue long-sleeved turtleneck, pairing it with a pair of fitted high-waisted black pants. She tested their movement and comfort level before deciding on the pants; fitted pants tended to be restrictive, but no such faults came with this pair. It was probably best not to ponder too much on how the Capitol knew her exact size.</p><p>Rifling through a drawer in the closet, Riin found a pair of dark leather fingerless gloves. She marveled at the stitching, wondering if these came from her district or the Capitol’s own sewing machines. They slipped easily over her hands, and Riin picked up the knife from her bedside table, twirling it experimentally with the glove. For a heartbeat, she wished she could bring the gloves into the arena with her, but their use here wasn’t much more than aesthetic. Still, it might help her image. Ultimately, though, she should bring something that was actually hers. Her sash was really the only option, and even then the Gamemakers might rule against it, decreeing that the length of fabric could be used as a weapon. Which wouldn’t exactly be wrong, as Janus had pointed out. Either way, she was allowed only one token; two gloves likely wouldn’t pass inspection.</p><p>She sighed, throwing the knife at the target she’d been aiming at last night, marked by various scratches in the wall across from her bed. It stuck, though not exactly where she’d been intending.</p><p>Riin reached for the other four knives laying haphazardly on the night table and found her indigo sash piled next to them. It didn’t quite match the outfit she’d picked out for today, but she tied it into her ponytail anyways; who knew, somebody might recognize it from her reaping ceremony. She decided to spend a couple more minutes practicing with her knives; she was startled an hour later by a knock on her door and Scilla poking her silvery head inside.</p><p>“Were you planning on joining us, or not?”</p><p>“I’m coming,” Riin said, getting rid of the two remaining knives in her hands. She followed Scilla out to the dining car where Janus, Barnabas, and Taylor sat around a hearty selection of breakfasts.</p><p>“Welcome, Thariin,” Janus greeted her evenly. “Slept well, I assume?”</p><p>Was he annoyed at her timing? “Yes, thank you,” she said evenly, sitting down across from him. She reached for a crisp piece of toast, smothering it with jam from an unfamiliar fruit.</p><p>“We’ll be arriving at the Capitol soon,” Scilla announced.</p><p>“I’ll admit, I’ve been wanting to see it,” Taylor said from her right side.</p><p>Riin ignored his comment, scooping more fruits into her plate. She had no interest in seeing the Capitol, despite its inevitability. “Can you pass me the teapot, Karl?” If they were going to be allies, or at least pretend in her case, she should refer to Taylor by his first name.</p><p>“Sure.” He placed the steaming porcelain pot in front of her; she thanked him, filling her teacup. Holding the cup to her lips, Riin caught a scent of lavender. It reminded her of home.</p><p>“Do you like that one?” Janus asked casually. “It’s one of my favorites.”</p><p>Riin nodded, not in the mood for small talk. “What can we expect from the parade?” she asked bluntly.</p><p>The mention of the tribute parade had Barnabas scowling; perhaps he was remembering his own costume. Riin had seen both of the Victors’ parade costumes during Hunger Games reruns. If she were Barnabas, she’d be scowling as well.</p><p>Janus put down his silverware, folding his hands. “Once we arrive at the Capitol, you’ll spend the entire day prepping for the parade. The prep teams will be rather...invasive, but I recommend you let them do their jobs.” That was definitely a frown on Janus’s face; Riin wasn’t going to like this. “The new stylist usually isn’t awful either; just let him have his fun.” Riin <em>really</em> wasn’t going to like this.</p><p>“New stylist?” Barnabas objected. “We’ve had the same ones for five years.”</p><p>Janus waved his hand dismissively, and Riin shared a look of uneasiness with Taylor.</p><p>Just then, darkness choked off the sunlight illuminating the dining car as the train barreled into what Riin assumed was the throat of a mountain; they were entering the Capitol. On the other side of this tunnel, a city would be cheering for her death. It was Riin’s only job to put on a good show.</p><p>The train burst into daylight and Taylor gasped. Sparkling like a summer collection in Designer Alley, the Capitol’s towering skyscrapers arched to the clouds, resting on a bed of glittering water. She thought she had lived in a city her entire life, but District Eight’s comfortable urban atmosphere in no way prepared her for the grandeur that was the Capitol. Back home, buildings were limited in height by safety regulations; they either completely disregarded them here or used stronger materials instead. Her own apartment building reached the maximum of ten floors; she couldn’t even begin to count the number of windows on the behemoth they had just passed.</p><p>Riin realized her mouth had dropped open in awe. She clamped it quickly, schooling her expression into one of indifference. <em>However pretty this place is, it doesn’t matter,</em> she reminded herself.</p><p>The train barely shuddered as it began to slow, pulling into a station crowded by a colorful mass of people. A muted roar of celebration emanated from the Capitol citizens, drawing her to the window. She glimpsed the oddest statements of fashion as she met their adoring gazes: a full-length neon yellow bodysuit with a wig to match, a glittering red suit paired with a tall square-shaped hat, twitching rabbit’s ears sprouting from a tuft of white hair, a stark indigo sequined dress with — <em>was that a tail?</em></p><p>Riin recoiled from the window with a look of disbelief on her face. She knew about body modifications, of course - she’d spend enough time catching the light from Scilla’s chrome-painted skin tone in the reaping pens - but it unnerved her nonetheless. She wondered how expensive such modifications were; surely there were better things to spend money on. Riin was not looking forward to meeting any of these people up close.</p><p>A frown of disgust etched itself onto her face as the train squealed to a halt. A legion of Peacekeepers stood guard to hold back the crowd, for which Riin was extremely grateful. Scilla escorted her and Taylor through the station and towards the Remake Center to be primped for the parade. <em>Just have to get through this,</em> Riin thought to herself, gritting her teeth. A plethora of prep stations inhabited the floor in front of her, some closed off and curtained, presumably preparing the other tributes.</p><p>Suddenly, a trio of colorful Capitolites swarmed her, practically vibrating with excitement as they whisked Riin towards one of the stations, though to their credit, they made an effort to treat the process with a somewhat businesslike manner. Riin was glad for it; she wasn’t in the mood for idle gossip, especially since she knew none of the parties involved.</p><p>Any feeling of thankfulness quickly dissipated as they methodically striped Riin of her new clothes, laying her bare on a cold metal table and dousing her body with a shock of cold water.</p><p>Riin gasped, shivering uncontrollably. This was unacceptable; surely there couldn’t be a shortage of warm water in the Capitol of all places!</p><p>“Apologies, Miss Kres. The cold keeps your natural body oils intact.”</p><p>Riin didn’t give a Widow’s bite about her natural body oils, but she appreciated the draft of warm air that appeared soon after, making her arm hairs stand on end.</p><p>Those were promptly ripped out, and Riin stifled another gasp. “What are you doing?” she hissed.</p><p>“Your imperfections need to be removed,” one of the prep team members, an iridescent pearl-skinned woman named Dua, said with a smile. Imperfections! Riin wrinkled her nose. The Capitolite ripped another chunk of hair from Riin’s leg, and she got the feeling that Dua liked her job a little too much. Not even her eyebrows were safe as another member of her prep team attacked them with a pair of tweezers.</p><p>Having removed her of hair, except in the acceptable places like her head and eyelashes, they dusted Riin’s body in shimmering powder and draped her in a thin, papery gown, much like the one she had worn when getting yearly checkups and vaccines back home.</p><p>They then turned their attention to her raven-colored ponytail, removing the sash and the tie that kept it back. More cold wetness, and then warmth as they turned up the water temperature, shampooing her hair with flowery-scented soaps. Whatever they used made it easier to comb out the knots and snarls; Riin hardly felt a tug as the woman swept the comb through her wet hair. She caught a flash of silver and immediately tensed upon seeing one of them, a green-haired pointy-eared man called Walter, with a pair of scissors in his hands. “No,” she snapped.</p><p>“Just a trim,” he reassured her, bringing the twin blades too close to her throat for comfort. <em>He’s just part of my prep team. No one’s trying to kill you yet.</em> She froze, letting him clip the dead ends from her long hair. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”</p><p>Riin glared at Walter. He ignored her, and joined the rest of the team bustling about, readying their face paints and makeup. They sat her up in a stool, the last one, Felix, waving about a wand that emitted a jet of hot air, drying the moisture from her freshly cut hair. The man stepped behind her and began pulling her hair back again, twisting it up into whatever updo her stylist had demanded. The same stylist who had not bothered to show their face, as of yet. Riin’s thoughts were interrupted by Dua jabbing at her face with various paintbrushes.</p><p>She honestly hadn’t realized how much was involved in this process, especially with the makeup. Plenty of kids at school wore shadow on their eyes, color on their lips, even Cosima Herkimer’s false eyelashes. Riin herself wasn’t innocent of stealing her mother’s eyeliner every now and then. But these people treated her whole body like a canvas; Riin’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the various grays and reds that lined Dua’s brushes.</p><p>A sharp prick lanced her skull where Felix had apparently shoved a hairpin in too tightly. “Sorry!” he squeaked in response to Riin’s wordless hiss. She counted three more pins, more gently fixed this time.</p><p>Walter rummaged noisily around the wheeled table containing their materials. “Dua, where did you put the —“</p><p>“Looking for this?” The calm, expectant voice belonged to neither of her three prep team members, nor the two Victors, who had thankfully deserted her for the styling process. A rather old, graying man had appeared, clutching a small box in his gloved hand.</p><p>Walter had the decency to appear abashed at his misplacement of the box. “Yes, I - my apologies.”</p><p>“It’s quite alright,” he said reassuringly before turning to Riin. “Miss Thariin Kres, a pleasure to meet you. I am Loki, your stylist. I trust you’ve been in good hands?”</p><p>Upon seeing Loki’s appearance, Riin realized she hadn’t seen any elderly people in the Capitol as of yet, not counting any of the Victors. She had probably missed them in the crowd; grey hair wasn’t known to be a sign of vitality in a place like this. She hoped this was an indicator that whatever Loki had in mind for her was sane.</p><p>“They’re alright,” she said, begrudgingly acknowledging her prep team. Poking and prodding at her like that was hardly going to garner her highest praise.</p><p>Loki smiled apologetically. “Well, your makeup and hair are exactly what I envisioned. Once we have the rest of your costume on, I daresay the visual will be quite stunning.”</p><p>There goes any hopes Riin had of a simple, boring dress. She should’ve known better, really. “Will it? I still don’t understand why she had to put makeup in my ears.”</p><p>The stylist exchanged a laugh with Dua at that. Definitely not encouraging. Riin felt the pile of hair on top of her head sway precariously as she glanced between the two. Loki waved Walker and Felix away, and they returned seconds later, a large plastic dress bag in tow. Riin’s apprehension grew; her entire body could fit into that bag a couple times over. She didn’t have time to worry about its contents before they unveiled the costume.</p><p>Dark grey was all she saw, though upon closer inspection, she detected a hint of purplish-blue. The bag had certainly been necessary; otherwise, the multitudes of lace stemming from various places on the piece would’ve surely been destroyed. Riin couldn’t quite tell what it was supposed to be, nor how it represented her district. She supposed the quantity of fabric was enough to cover that part, but grey was hardly a color to stand out in the crowd. Riin was thankful for that at least; she wouldn’t want to make herself a target for the Gamemakers and other tributes so soon.</p><p>“Trust me, it will look better on,” Loki reassured.</p><p>“It’s fine.”</p><p>It required all three prep team members to drape the dress over her frame and secure it to her. A tight collar of lace itched at Riin’s throat, but Dua smacked her hand away when she went to scratch it. “Don’t touch!”</p><p>Riin shot the woman a glare before turning her attention to her attire. The dress was <em>heavy</em>, much heavier than she expected despite the obvious amount of fabric. Sure, Riin had seen plenty of gowns of this caliber in the windows of the designer shoppes, but she’d never <em>worn</em> them. The tight sleeves went all the way down to her wrists, accompanied by a lace fabric trailing behind them in a manner she couldn’t quite figure out from this angle. The blue-grey bodice hugged her waist a bit too tightly, flowing into an opaque grey skirt that trailed on the floor. Concentric lace patterns decorated the fabric, shimmering when the light hit at just the right angle. Dua appeared in front of her, holding two circular red rubies (plastic, Riin assumed - or were they real?) and stuck one above each eyebrow, to Riin’s confusion.</p><p>Loki pulled her in front of a full-length mirror and Riin understood the gimmick immediately. When she raised her arms, three spindly others followed on each side, visible as more tightly-packed designs in the train of lace behind her. Her jet-black hair had been twisted into a large circular bun directly on top of her head, the pins and ruby stickers resembling three more pairs of eyes. Dua had painted her skin a light, inhumanly pale grey color, complemented by dark heavy shadows around her eyes and blood-red lips.</p><p>Loki had made her into an Indigo Widow.</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Maybe one of these days, I’ll draw out what Riin’s outfit looks like, just for funsies lol.. I have some sketches for this au that I did like last year ish? Maybe I’ll include those at the end (and if I do any more)</p><p>I also realize I am going into a lot of detail for where we're at now, and I apologize if anyone finds that boring... My excuse for that is Riin tends to overanalyze things in her head, so that's what you're seeing. (I’m not the most...concise of writers lol, but honestly, I’m surprised that I’ve written this Much jfjf)</p><p>However, if you are not finding this boring, I do not apologize and I instead thank you for enjoying my story so far!</p><p>Also, re: updates, I feel like I could maybe stand updating more regularly than once a week? We’ll see!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Catching Flies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brief POV shift..</p><p>Also, I forgot that it was a thing that people did to include songs for their fics.. I have a whole playlist for Riin, though some of it isn't applicable to this au..I'm gonna try to give you guys one for each chapter or so. Feel free to judge me on my music taste lol</p><p>This one is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96TmqFpk-_0">Violent Games</a> by POLIÇA</p><p>Edit: I added songs for the previous chapters as well !</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>The tribute parade was set to air soon, but Iden was strongly considering not watching. It was illegal, he knew, but the thought of his sister in one of those stupid tribute costumes made his blood boil. </p><p>It was bad enough at school, with everyone walking on needles around him, but home was worse. He hated the fact that she was gone. He hated the way they’d parted, hated how helpless he was to protect her, and he hated the bag of new embroidery threads his father thought he hadn’t seen —</p><p>The sharp whirr of the door buzzer startled him out of his thoughts. </p><p>Who the hell could that be? His mother wasn’t home yet - another late shift at the base - but she had a key. Guests did not appear often at their little flat; the number of well-wishers offering Hunger Games condolences had dwindled after a day.</p><p>Striding towards the door, Iden opened it to reveal a girl, about his sister’s age, her blonde hair layered in neat ringlets. She was alone, and she carried a single white rose. “Oh, hello, Iden,” she said.</p><p>It took him a minute to place her. “Cosima,” he greeted warily. What in Panem’s name was this wretch doing here? Iden had seen her maybe once or twice around school, always surrounded by a possi of gossips, but his sister’s endless, vicious tirades against the girl in front of him had well acquainted him to her name. </p><p>“I brought this for you and your family, for good luck,” she said, indicating the flower. There was a note of hesitance to her voice, as if she had expected Iden to invite her inside immediately. “May I come in?”</p><p>Wordlessly, Iden stepped aside. It was probably rude to leave her out there for so long. </p><p>“I was so upset when I wasn’t allowed to go in and say goodbye to her,” Cosima continued, sidling through the doorway. “Riin and I… There’s so much I never got to tell her; I really am going to miss her.”</p><p>Oh, how his sister would’ve despised the sound of her nickname in Cosima’s mouth!  Iden felt the bite of his fingernails as his hands curled into fists. “Are you kidding me?” he spat, slamming the door loudly. “She hates you.” </p><p>Cosima shrank back at the startling noise and the harshness of his words. Iden felt a bit guilty, but he couldn’t forget the vitriol of his sister’s hatred for the girl, and not for no reason. He didn’t know what made his sister stand out as a target, but the amount of times Riin had come home seething with another tale of schoolyard torture from this girl’s hands... Well, if he was being honest, it didn’t matter what Cosima did; if Riin hated her, then Iden stood by that. Cosima bit her lip nervously, still clutching the flower. “I - I know we weren’t on the best of terms, but I really did admire her. At the reaping, she - she was so brave.”</p><p>He didn’t want to think about the reaping, or about how everyone had already started to refer to Riin in past tense. What she’d last said to him stuck. Iden couldn’t get the words out of his brain: <em>“You haven’t even asked me to try.”</em> </p><p>It wasn’t fair; it should’ve been Cosima that was chosen, or someone else, anyone else. </p><p>With a sigh, he reached out to take the snow-colored rose that Cosima offered. They could use some luck. “Alright. I’ll bite.” Iden grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the sink. He placed it on the table next to the bag of threads, which he promptly swept into the trash bin. “What are you really here for?”</p><p>Cosima tilted her head, golden curls bouncing. “I thought it might be nice to watch the parade with someone.”</p><p>___</p><p><em>They really are trying to kill me,</em> Riin thought in dawning horror. </p><p>The unfamiliar arachnoid version of herself started unflinchingly at her through the mirror, bearing about as much resemblance to the tribute as a knife to a needle. This Widow would be as dangerous as she was useful, as the creatures were to the people of District Eight. After the fires of the Second Rebellion had cooled, the venomous Indigo Widows had been relocated into District Eight’s dye factories, perhaps as a punishment for the insurgent citizens. The purple-blue color produced by the spiders was highly prized by citizens in the Capitol (and within the district) due to the dangerous nature of the spiders themselves.</p><p>The Widows had remained locked away in the factories until a couple decades ago, when some idiot had “accidentally” released them into the city; they’d bred within the walls of apartments and homes ever since. District Eight’s citizens learned quickly to kill or avoid those they encountered, else succumb to the venom. Every now and then, though, an unfortunate soul would be caught unawares, subject to the immobilizing pain caused by a bite for as long as a half-hour before being graced by death - in most cases. Her brother had been one of the lucky few.</p><p>“Do you like it?” Loki asked, pride shining in his eyes. </p><p>Riin couldn’t even form a glare on her features, still enraptured by her reflection despite herself. She hardly recognized the creature staring back. “I hope you realize I’m guaranteed to see these in the arena now,” Riin said, deadly calm. “Do you know how painful a Widow’s bite is?”</p><p>Riin couldn’t claim to know herself, and she certainly didn’t plan on finding out. </p><p>None of her words could wipe the smile from Loki’s face, however. “I hope so,” he said passively. “They wouldn’t make me a Gamemaker, so this was the best I could do.”</p><p><em>Well, shit.</em> Of course Riin had to get the ambitious psychopath for a stylist. </p><p>“Open your mouth,” Dua commanded. Riin obeyed and the woman shoved something over her...teeth? Grimacing in the mirror, Riin saw that whatever Dua had done had lengthened her canines into fangs. <em>This is ridiculous.</em> </p><p>“Widow fangs don’t look like this,” Riin protested, but they ignored her. </p><p>Loki approached her with the tiny box from earlier in his hands. “I had these especially made for this costume,” he said, opening the case to reveal two liquid-soaked translucent red lenses, about the size of a marble each. “Open your eyes; try not to tear up.” </p><p>Changing his leather gloves to plastic ones, Loki gently placed the cool, almost jelly-like lenses over her pupils. Immediately, Riin’s eyes welled up with water, blurring over in a shade of red as her vision struggled to adjust. Walter held a tissue to her eyes, soaking up the liquid before she could ruin her makeup. </p><p>Catching her reflection in the mirror again, Riin bared her teeth, exposing the fangs. The entirety of her eyeballs were now colored bright red, thanks to the lenses. The whole ensemble appeared as if she stepped right out of District Eight’s autumn-noir collection. </p><p>She hardly looked human, let alone like herself. Somewhere underneath this human-spider hybrid was a fourteen year old girl. But no one cared about her now, just the monster these Capitol stylists had created. Riin would hardly be the least intimidating tribute at the parade now; what her stature and age had detracted from her potential had now been replenished tenfold by the striking costume.</p><p>Drawn to her rose-tinged reflection, Riin felt dangerously powerful. The look was unforgettable, guaranteed to earn a few double takes, and a few sponsors, as well as a large target on her back. Common sense warred with Riin’s appreciation for the costume. She appeared frightening and intimidating now, but nothing like herself; when the parade was over and the outfit stripped, who would she be then?</p><p>It was too late, whether she liked it or not. She’d hold her head high and play the part for the cameras, as much as she wished it wasn’t just an act. </p><p>Dua lifted up the hem of her skirt and slid a pair of tall yet sturdy-looking heels onto her feet. The dress was long enough to hide them, but Riin severely needed the height. </p><p>“Ah, yes, beautiful and deadly,” Loki said, clasping his hands together like a greedy fly. </p><p>”You’d better hope so,” Riin said threateningly. “If I die from a Widow’s bite, I’m instructing Janus to poison your soup.” </p><p>Loki waved her off with a hand and Riin made a mental note to inform Janus of her plan. “They’re going to love you!” By ‘you’ he clearly meant ‘my work.’ </p><p>With that, she was led away to her chariot, this year pulled by a pair of dark grey horses with flowing black manes. Riin sensed a theme here. </p><p>She got her first glance at the other tributes as well; they all looked much bigger in person. A flash of nervousness bubbled in Riin’s stomach at the sight, the only thoughts in her mind half-baked plans to kill them all. The task was daunting, and Riin was glad for the ferocity of her costume, giving her a stronger edge to the competition. The red haze in front of her vision cast everything in an almost dreamlike, violent quality - the usual silvery sheer bodysuits of District One, the classic cowboy getup for Ten, a glorified parody of healers’ lab coats for Twelve, all shimmering in rose. The bald girl from Six had been given an auburn wig to match her, uh, dress? Riin wasn’t sure what the spike-studded getup was supposed to be, but she watched as the girl ripped the wig off her head, throwing it into the chariot for District Five. Riin smirked as the tributes jumped two feet in the air, squealing at the unknown projectile. </p><p>She stopped once she remembered those were the tributes Janus wanted her to ally with. At least they’d be easy to sneak up on. </p><p>Over the din of bustling stylists and prep teams, Riin heard a set of footsteps approaching from behind. She turned around to see Taylor and his personal gaggle of Capitol beautifiers. “Hey there! I see you got the spider treatment too, huh.”</p><p>Taylor’s costume was far from identical to hers, though they carried the same theme: his face had been tinted a slightly darker grey - well, she assumed grey and not unsaturated red - to match his skin tone, the fabric of his grey suit a lighter color than Riin’s dress to complement. Rather than a skirt and train, Taylor wore a lovely lace cape, the design ressemblant of a spider in her web, similar to Riin’s winged sleeves. He had been given the red eyes and fangs as well, contrasting almost humorously with his genial attitude. </p><p>Riin wondered if he felt the particular weight of their paired Indigo Widow costume; after male Widows outlived their use, they never lasted very long. Riin certainly wasn’t going to bring that to his attention.</p><p>“Can’t wait to fight off spider mutts in the arena,” Riin said, gritting her teeth as Taylor climbed into the chariot beside her. </p><p>“Hopefully they’ll forget all about us by then,” Taylor muttered. “I hate these eye things, I can hardly see.”</p><p>Their costumes were attracting attention from the other tributes; the pair from Nine quickly looked away when Riin met their gaze and she smiled in satisfaction. She foresaw no trouble getting them to follow her lead. </p><p>Three looked like a problem, though. She remembered his name from the Reaping recaps: Chase. The boy stared at her, a flash of resentment in his eyes, and Riin couldn’t blame him. She and Taylor easily outshined his dull chrome-accented costume. Still, her nerves spiked under the scrutiny of the Career. This was the opposite of what she wanted. </p><p>A tug in the fabric at her sleeve drew Riin’s attention away from the pair from Three and she whipped around to see a flash of glittering black fabric: the dark-haired boy from Thirteen, Victor, was pawing at her sleeve. Baring her teeth, Riin hissed at him, yanking the lace out of his hands; he squeaked in surprise, darting back to the safety of his district partner. Laughable, really. </p><p>Next to her, Taylor snickered. “I guess these costumes do have their perks.”</p><p>The callousness of his comment surprised Riin. The Games were bound to bring out a different side in everybody, she supposed. Why not start now?</p><p>Janus’s voice sounded over the din as he and Barnabas appeared with the district stylists in tow. “Well done, Loki. They look unforgettable.” </p><p>Riin couldn’t tell if he was sincere by his expression, and the red lenses certainly didn’t help. Loki, however, beamed from the praise, opening his mouth to no doubt brag about his design. </p><p>“This outfit is going to kill me,” Riin hissed, cutting him off. </p><p>“Perhaps,” Janus said, inclining his head in acknowledgement. “But the number of sponsors you’ll gain might save you instead.”</p><p>Riin frowned, still unsatisfied. “Janus, if I die from a spider bite, I want you to poison him,” she commanded, jutting her chin at Loki. The stylist seemed unconcerned, and Janus just chuckled. </p><p>Before Riin could implore her total seriousness, the anthem began in earnest, rolling out the tributes from District One. A roar from the crowd of spectators followed them, almost drowning out the music. Riin’s heart skipped a beat; soon enough she’d be out there, dressed up like a vicious doll for the whole nation to see. </p><p>The tributes in front of her fidgeted nervously in their tree costumes. She wondered half-heartedly if District Seven’s stylist would ever quit it with the tree motif. </p><p>Ahead of them, the District Six stylist desperately waved another wig at the female tribute, practically begging her to take it as the chariot rolled out. Personally, Riin thought the costume looked better without one, allowing the girl’s intricate tattoos to be seen by the crowd. She apparently thought so too, flipping a rude gesture at her stylist as the chariot rode out of wig-throwing range. </p><p>The pair of horses tugged the District Eight chariot into motion before Riin could process their place in line. She managed to cling to the metal rail, gripping it tightly in her fingers, and they were swept under focus of the crowd. Thousands of Capitol citizens blurred into a haze of red as Riin’s eyes glazed over their screaming faces, too overwhelmed to pay them attention. The noise was surreal, the flashing hurt her head, and she felt her eyes beginning to dry out from the lenses. </p><p>Should she smile and wave? That seemed stupid; her face appeared on one of the screens as a camera focused on her, and she snarled at it, letting the crowd see her fangs. </p><p>Briefly, she wondered how many of them missed the spider reference. Sure, indigo was wildly popular here, but how many of them had actually seen the creature it derived from? <em>Might as well let them see,</em> she thought, spreading her arms wide. She raised the one next to Taylor a bit higher, lest she interfere with his form, almost a motionless wave to the crowd. Her other hand glided gracefully, angled slightly behind her. Everyone saw the semblance of the Widow now, built into her dress and her stance. </p><p>It was impossible to tell whether the crowd cheered for her or the tributes surrounding her. This was the Capitol, after all. They cheered for anything. The fourteen year-old girl transformed into a vicious symbol of war and gluttony? The irony as she died screaming from the bite of the creature whose likeness she parodied? No doubt that’s what her district would see; the Capitol cheered for it all. </p><p>Their chariot slowed to a stop in a formation with those of the other tributes at the foot of a tall balcony where the president would give his welcoming speech. It wasn’t so much a speech as a few words of obligation to remind the tributes - and the Districts - that they existed under his thumb before he disappeared to join in the festivities. </p><p>The last chariot drew forwards with its sparkling pair of tributes, stopping in its designated place, and on cue, the president stepped into view behind the balustrade. Riin vaguely remembered the young leader’s ‘election’ a couple years ago, though it was hardly an election when most of the nation didn’t have a vote. </p><p>The president raised a hand, instantly quieting the crowd, a genial smile across his sharp features. “Citizens of Panem; tributes. We welcome you to the Capitol,” President Valorius said, his voice booming over the crowd through an unseen amplifier. “Let the One Hundred and Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games begin.”</p><p>A roar surged from the crowd as he finished speaking, practically drowning out Riin’s thoughts and adding to the growing headache that had originated from the eye lenses. Belatedly, Riin realized she wore a frown of discomfort and annoyance; she didn’t bother to change her expression as she watched the president make his exit, his disappearance marking the cue for the tribute chariots to file out of camera view into the Training Center. </p><p>Relieved at their brief removal from the nation’s spotlight, Riin let out a breath, grasping on to the rails. Her legs were stiff from trying not to fall off, and she nearly stumbled upon stepping down from the chariot, wobbling slightly on her toes. The Victors and stylists had materialized again; Janus offered her a hand for stability, but she ignored him. </p><p>“What a wonderful image you two made!” Loki clasped his hands together, the giddiness in his tone only stirring Riin’s growing irritation. </p><p>She ignored him with great effort, focusing instead on the flash of chrome heralding Scilla’s arrival to the group. “You guys really killed it out there,” she said, a wicked smile on her face. “You’d better keep that up in the arena if you know what’s good for you.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Taylor said sarcastically. </p><p>“I mean it; half of these tributes look scared out of their wits at the sight of you two.”</p><p>She wasn’t exactly wrong, though Riin was hardly in the mood to socialize. “Can we get going now?” she snapped. </p><p>Without argument, Scilla guided them in the right direction towards the elevator to the rest of the Training Center, chatting idly with Loki and Janus about the rest of the parade costumes. </p><p>The elevator dinged, and Scilla hurried their entourage through the doors, hitting a button labeled with an eight. “Floor Eight for District Eight,” she said. Riin wondered if they were allowed on the other floors, but she didn’t ask. </p><p>Just as the doors were shutting, a pale-colored hand shoved its way through the opening and the bald-headed girl from District Six slid inside, followed by her stylist, who was still flitting about her with a colored wig in hand. “Knock it off, you bitch,” the girl snapped, and the stylist recoiled with an offended gasp. Riin caught Scilla’s smirk out of the corner of her eye. </p><p>Riin hit the button with a six for the girl as the elevator started to ascend upwards, the ground below shrinking outside the glass windows. It was quite an astounding sight, the people below merging into blobs of color and sparkles. Tall buildings were hardly foreign to Riin, but the elevators back home were either heavy metal freight boxes or small and rather rickety, built for function rather than aesthetic. Nothing like the crystalline structure currently carrying them upwards. </p><p>The District Six stylist had started to gripe about how her career was ruined, annoying everyone in the car; even Taylor rolled his eyes, still freakishly uniform from the lenses. Her tribute groaned loudly and snatched the wig from her hands, proceeding to rip out the red strands. </p><p>Riin and Taylor exchanged amused glances at the stylist’s shriek of horror, and Scilla huffed an unkind laugh. “Shouldn’t have used your own stuff for that one.”</p><p>The stylist let out a wordless whine of misery as Six viciously shredded her wig. “Got any more for me?” she sneered at the Capitol woman. </p><p>Compared to Taylor, Six was rather small, but she easily stood taller than Riin. Up close, Riin still couldn’t tell how the tribute’s costume was supposed to reflect District Six’s transportation industry. The metal spikes on her shoulders could be a representation of stakes inlaid on train tracks, though Riin didn’t know enough about it to be sure. She wore a calf-length jacket made of leather, which Riin thought would probably be more appropriate for District Ten, though it made her look tough and intimidating. That bright red wig definitely would’ve clashed. “It looks better that way,” Riin said offhandedly, nodding at the mess of cherry-red hair on the elevator floor. </p><p>Six let out a snort of laughter as the elevator bell dinged at her floor. “Bite me, kid,” she said dismissively, exiting the car with her woebegone stylist. </p><p>“That was...interesting,” Taylor said after the doors closed on them. </p><p>Barnabas, who’d been silent for the encounter, sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. The elevator dinged again for floor eight, and they stepped into the hall leading to their quarters, Riin being careful not to let her heel get caught in the gap between the car and the floor. </p><p>Upon stepping into their flat, part of her initial wonder at the luxury was overshadowed by the urge to rip off her parade costume. The laced turtleneck irritated the skin on her neck, making it difficult to breathe. She felt the amount of fabric from the skirt weighing her down like a pack full of schoolbooks, digging her toes uncomfortably into her shoes. The worst was the damn eye lenses; the rose tint to her vision was really starting to get on her nerves, in addition to the itchy dryness of her eyeballs. </p><p>She did pause for a brief minute to admire the soft upholstery on the lounge chairs as she walked past to her room; she’d definitely be claiming one of those later. </p><p>Scilla guided her to her personal quarters, a room bigger than her entire flat back home. She kicked the pinching heels from her feet as soon as she crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind herself and clicking the lock. </p><p>Riin found herself hesitating a bit with the dress; she wasn’t quite sure where the zipper was, and she didn’t want to ruin it. With no small amount of effort, she managed to reach the eyelet at the back of her neck and undo the zip, careful not to tug too hard on the snags. It took an absurd amount of time to remove the entire garment, but Riin was careful not to rip a single stitch. Finding a large mirror in her bathroom, she gently plucked the delicate red lenses from her pupils and the gems and pins from her hair. The grey makeup was another issue entirely; it took her three attempts to fully scrub it off in the shower. She had a little fun with the various shampoos, though, particularly enjoying the one that smelled of lavender. </p><p>This bathroom had the same amenity as the one on the train; the odd current of electricity left her hair light and silky, and she found herself a soft blue knit sweater in the provided wardrobe to go with it. The open space of the room seemed to carry a draft despite her hot shower, and Riin picked a comfortable pair of long pants to match, heading back outside into the suite to join the others for dinner. </p><p>The Victors and Scilla were seated at a long glass table in the center of the suite, along with Loki and a slight man with braided purple hair whom Riin assumed was Taylor’s stylist. Taylor himself had not reappeared yet, and the quiet murmur of a talk-show program played in the background, projected onto an empty rectangle of the otherwise-decorated wall. Riin took a seat between Janus and Scilla; realizing she was quite hungry, she snagged a still-warm roll from the basket on the table, stretching out an arm to dip it in an accompanying saucer of oil and spices.</p><p>Soon enough, the program turned the camera over to the official Hunger Games host, Marcus Argentus, who began running through the parade recap. Taylor resurfaced just in time to catch the beginning of the District One tributes gliding out onto the scene in their matching bejeweled jumpsuits. Even in the Capitol, they managed to look cheap. <em>Luxury items, my ass.</em> Fancy, eye-catching tricks to hide the lack of quality. Sounds like District One, alright.</p><p>Riin munched on her bread thoughtfully, studying how the incoming tributes acted under the guise of their costumes. The tributes from Three caught her eye again; there, the male tribute who had been glaring at her and Taylor. He smiled at the crowd now from underneath his smooth, chrome-plated helmet, glowing trails of light running up the metallic sheen of his arms and chest. She didn’t remember that; she supposed they turned them on just before the parade started. Definitely one of the better costumes she’d seen in recent years. </p><p>Her gaze glossed over the mermaid getups of District Four straight on to the pair from Six that had caused such a ruckus earlier. Well, the girl, really. Riin bit her lip to smother a laugh as she watched the girl give her partner a hard elbow, almost knocking him out of the chariot. </p><p>Riin paused mid-reach for a serving of food that she wasn’t even paying attention to; on the screen, she and Taylor emerged in their Widow costumes, emanating a considerably more intimidating air than their predecessors. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janus nodding approvingly at their march - they had played a good hand by not giving in to the frivolous smiling and waving of their fellow tributes. The camera zoomed into the pair just as Widow-Riin bared her teeth in a snarl, false fangs glinting in the parade light. This was how the people of the Capitol saw her: not a lonesome girl put low by schoolyard taunts, but a rising threat, a contender. </p><p>This was how the other tributes saw her too. </p><p>Was it a mistake? It was too late now. <em>It had better not be,</em> Riin thought, glancing over at her overly-ambitious stylist. Loki’s eyes were alight with glee as he watched their procession, and he graciously accepted praise from the rest of the District Eight entourage. He caught her staring and winked. </p><p>Riin didn’t feel like scowling, so she shifted her focus to her plate, piling it with one of everything from the table before she turned her attention back to the screen. Districts Nine and Ten, her future allies, if she followed Janus’s instructions. Eleven; the girl wore a similar expression that Riin had, her determined frown contrasting with her flowing golden dress. The two from Twelve in mock Healer’s coats - abominable, but better than last year’s coal miner’s jumpsuits. She got a better look at Thirteen’s costumes without the red lenses: long black robes that shimmered when the light hit, paired with matching capes that gave off the impression of wings resting on the back of a fly.</p><p>The parade continued around the square, but Janus muted the audio, dragging the group’s attention to himself. Riin didn’t care; whatever he had to say was more important to her than the President of Panem, who was currently repeating his little speech in subtitles. </p><p>He addressed the tributes. “We need to start planning for tomorrow.” Right; training day. Alliances. Weapons. </p><p>“You seem more invested than usual,” Scilla drawled. Riin flashed her a glare, but the woman was still watching the screen.</p><p>Janus ignored her. “You’ll only have two and a half days, and you must make them count.” </p><p>“What about the training scores?” Taylor piped up. Riin wanted to know that too.</p><p>“We’re not there yet,” Janus said brusquely. “Like I said before, you’ll need an alliance, but you must choose carefully. You two made quite a pair at the parade; I’m certain you’ll have at least a handful of sponsors.”</p><p>Riin perked up at that. She’d need as many as she could get.</p><p>Janus grilled them both on how to approach their training sessions for perhaps a bit too long; Riin’s eyelids began to droop despite herself. He sent them off to bed, and only then did Riin fully register just how exhausted she was. Each day, it seemed, was more draining than the last. In almost no time, Riin had drifted off to sleep, nestled within the warm comforters and fluffy pillows of her queen-sized bed.</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let me know what you think about this chapter! I apologize, I don't have a decent drawing of Riin's outfit, I haven't had much energy to draw lately ;-; I hope you guys liked it, though.. not as flashy as the Girl on Fire, but it's fitting for Riin lol. </p><p>Also, I'd be curious to know what you guys think of Iden and Cosima.. they won't have that prominent of a role in this story, since I'm focusing on Riin in the Hunger Games, but they are arguably some of the most important people in Riin's life (in this AU, and in her usual cannon). Hope you liked Cosima's little good-luck charm (:</p><p>Hopefully you guys aren't too bored by Riin's Capitol adventures.. she's got a while before the actual Games start, but uh. Those are gonna be Something hhfj I'll have more songs for you then, too</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. “Team Underdog”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/RdfPMadOyw0">Last Surprise</a> by insaneintherainmusic ft. Adriana Figueroa, Brandon Miles Shelton, and Chris Allison<br/></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin woke early the following morning. Today was the first day of group training; she had no time to lose. The actual sessions didn’t start until ten, but Riin rushed to ready herself anyways, slipping on the sleek athletic wear provided for training and pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. </p><p>Janus was the only one at the large dining table when she arrived, sipping from a cup of tea. “Ah, I expected to see you any minute,” he greeted. </p><p>Riin nodded around her breakfast, a light meal of warm cereal and berries. She didn’t want it to come back up during training. </p><p>“Do you remember my advice?” Janus prompted. </p><p>Scarfing down the last of her breakfast, Riin rattled off, “Knives, survival skills, hand-to-hand, find some allies.”</p><p>“Good. You should get going.”</p><p>Riin paused where she had been collecting the knives from the table, hoping to get some practice in. “There’s still an hour and a half before training,” she protested. </p><p>“And you should be there first,” Janus commanded. “Pay attention to who’s early, who’s late, and who’s on time. Get down there and warm up.”</p><p>Riin couldn’t argue with his logic. She set the knives back on the table, gave Janus a terse nod, and headed out the door. The elevator carried her down to the basement where the gymnasium hid itself from the surface. A bell dinged as she reached her destination and she stepped through a short corridor to find herself the first tribute there, as Janus had predicted. </p><p>The largest, most expansive collection of weapons Riin had ever seen was splayed out before her: racks of spears in varying sizes; shelves of swords, machetes, and rapiers; a target range for long-distance weapons right next to the bow-and-arrow station and a wide collection of throwing knives. Along the walls and ceiling, a ropes course hung, waiting for someone to test their skills. More agility stations were scattered around the gym, including a set of beams increasing in height where trainers hovered like wasps, holding paddles and throwing some practice swings. They glanced briefly at her entrance before turning back to their duties. </p><p>Off to the side were the survival skill stations, placed smartly away from the ranged weapons. Clusters of rope lay next to another trainer preparing her instructions, along with wire snares, shelter-building, and piles of wood - the fire-starting station, Riin assumed. Plenty of bushes and trees offered assistance for tributes wishing to learn camouflage skills, and another trainer sat with clumps of various types of plants, either poisonous or harmless and, hopefully, edible. Riin resolved to familiarize herself with that trainer in particular. </p><p>Having gotten her fill of the training facilities, Riin started to stretch and warm up as she had done during track practice after school. Better than standing around awkwardly. </p><p>She was still stretching when the other tributes began to appear; by the boisterous chatting emanating from the elevator, Riin identified them as the Careers without even looking. Here she was, on her own in a room full of weapons, with the entire Career pack for company. <em>This was a bad idea. </em></p><p>They noticed her immediately; Riin heard the shift in their tone of voice as they practically stumbled across fresh blood, and her recently-stretched muscles tensed under the attention. </p><p>“Oh, look what we have here,” the boy from Two said, a discomforting eagerness to his tone. “It’s the little spider-bitch!” </p><p>He earned a round of laughter from most of the pack. Riin could handle names; ignoring those were easy compared to Cosima’s scathing taunts from back home. She noticed the boy from Three - Chase Vesto, she remembered - hadn’t joined in, choosing instead to size her up as an opponent - or as a target. She kept her distance from them, hoping they wouldn’t decide to gang up on her now.</p><p>“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!” Two again. Riin froze, flashing an apprehensive glance at the oversized teenager.</p><p>Chase glared at his fellow Career. “Shut up, Blade.” </p><p>Blade shut up. </p><p>
  <em>So he’s the leader, then. </em>
</p><p>’Blade’... what stupid names these people gave their children. What was his counterpart’s name, ‘Knife’? </p><p>Slowly, more tributes began to trickle in. She saw the girl from Eleven arrive alone. Mira Tempé, her name was. The pair from Thirteen came next, flashing friendly smiles at their competitors almost in unison. Slightly unnerved, Riin glanced at Mira to find a similar expression on the older girl’s face. The tributes from Five and Twelve arrived next; Riin remembered Janus’s advice about befriending the former. She carefully maneuvered herself closer to where they stood, within earshot of any conversation they might have. Taylor arrived next, almost making a beeline for Riin’s position. </p><p>“Hey, Riin, you left early today.”</p><p>Riin raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but let it happen. “Didn’t want to be alone with Janus for too long,” she lied easily. “He’s depressing.”</p><p>Taylor groaned in agreement. “You should see Barnabas. I don’t think he even wants to help me.”</p><p>Riin shrugged. She hadn’t seen Barnabas, but she assumed as much. She was surprised it had taken Taylor so long to notice. </p><p>The bald girl from Six - Briar Sannibel - was the last to arrive; she strode confidently into the gym five minutes after the head trainer had started giving them the run-down. “Nice of you to finally join us,” the trainer said. </p><p>“Was hoping to miss the lecture,” Briar responded snarkily. </p><p><em>Why would she want to miss out on important advice?</em> Riin frowned at Briar, but if the latter was dead set on gaining nothing from training, Riin wasn’t going to stop her. </p><p>The trainer dismissed them to their own devices. Riin decided to start at the knife-throwing station since she hadn’t been able to practice earlier this morning. Taylor followed her there, unsure where to start. They both listened patiently as the trainer explained different techniques; Riin compared the information with what Janus had taught her, not finding much of a difference. The blades were sleeker than the steak knives Riin had been using previously, built for deadliness and aim, rather than a Capitol dinner. She adjusted to the difference quickly enough, still being rather new at the whole thing. Her knives stuck more often than Taylor’s, who struggled with the technique, but not nearly as accurate as the girl from One, who seemed to appear just to show off. </p><p>More jealous than intimidated, Riin attempted to copy the flow of her movements with varying success. She managed to send one of her knives just outside the bulls-eye. </p><p>“Not bad, Eight,” One said. Riin remembered her name from the recaps: Nova. She grinned and sent three knives flying directly into the three bulls-eyes on the human-shaped target. “But not good enough.”</p><p>Riin responded by aiming for the same targets; no bulls-eyes, and the last blade clattered off the board to the ground. </p><p>Nova laughed mockingly. “It’s cute that you’re trying,” she simpered. </p><p>Riin decided to ignore her, focusing instead on improving her skills. </p><p>Taylor came to her verbal defense instead. “Hey, leave her alone. Not everyone has years of training.”</p><p><em>“Shut up, Taylor,”</em> Riin hissed under her breath. Clearly he wasn’t accustomed to this type of teasing; rebuttal only made it worse. </p><p>“Oh, how precious,” the Career exclaimed, sickeningly sweet. “Are you going to defend her in the arena too?”</p><p>Taylor glared at Nova. “Yeah, I am. What about it?” </p><p>Riin wanted to kick him, for admitting that to a Career, and for making her feel just a bit guilty about her plan for betrayal. Nova found his response hilarious, cackling like a grackle. Riin threw down her knives and dragged Taylor out of the Career’s earshot. </p><p>“Did Barnabas tell you to start arguing with the Careers or do you just not have any common sense?” she snapped. </p><p>Taylor looked startled at her ire. “I-I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”</p><p>Riin knew his intentions were good, but here, kindness only made enemies. “The only thing you’re doing is making us both targets!”</p><p>Chagrined by the unintended consequences, Taylor avoided her gaze. “Maybe they’ll forget about us if we stay away from them,” he said hopefully. </p><p>“We should’ve been doing that anyways,” Riin said, half to herself. It was the best idea they had, and the most obvious plan of action. She headed towards the hand-to-hand combat trainer before Taylor could respond. No Careers, only the two from Nine, whom Riin hoped to befriend on Janus’s advice. </p><p>Riin met the girl’s eye and offered her what she hoped was a friendly smile. The tribute looked away uneasily, gaze flicking between the trainer and the newcomers as she tried to keep up with the movements. Riin and Taylor joined in, following the trainer’s instructions on the simplest types of blocks and hooks. This felt vaguely familiar to Riin, bringing up old memories of herself and Iden play-fighting at the dojo downtown. </p><p>The Nines seemed pretty decent as well, and Riin said as much out loud, introducing herself and Taylor. The girl smiled back hesitantly. “Thanks, um. I’m Echelle Kaperton.” </p><p>“Melis Dray,” the boy said curtly, throwing a hard punch at the trainer. </p><p>“A pleasure to meet you,” Taylor said jovially, and Echelle and Melis exchanged a glance.</p><p>Riin did her best to keep a semblance of friendliness on her face; they were a lot less pathetic up close, both of them sixteen years old and more than five-and-a-half feet tall. “Do they teach you this stuff back home at all?” </p><p>Melis scoffed. “Do we look like Careers?”</p><p>“No, but,” Echelle said, scooting a little closer to Riin and Taylor, out of the trainer’s earshot, “One of our Victors, Sascha, stops by our school a lot, for ‘gym classes.’”</p><p>Riin felt uneasiness bubble in the pit of her stomach. They were clearly more prepared for this than herself. “Lucky,” she said, keeping her tone casual. </p><p>“Is that allowed?” Taylor asked in a whisper. </p><p>Echelle grimaced. “Trust me, it’s nothing compared to Two or Three,” she said glumly. </p><p>Still, something was better than nothing. “Speaking of the Careers,” Riin began, and Melis slid into their huddle at her words. “It’ll be a lot harder to go against them alone.”</p><p>“You want an alliance, or something?” Melis asked, his gaze flashing between her and the trained tributes scattered around the weapons stations. </p><p>Riin shrugged nonchalantly, as if her gameplan didn’t depend on this. “Our mentors said it’s the best way to get a non-Career Victor. We’d stand a better chance.”</p><p>Echelle and Melis exchanged thoughtful looks. It wasn’t like they had anything to lose, really. Either they were slaughtered immediately at the Bloodbath or they died later on when Riin inevitably betrayed them; she’d work out the details later. </p><p>The deal was good enough for them, and Riin had everyone shake on it as well. The four of them returned to boxing with the trainers for a bit before Riin suggested they shift over to the survival skill stations. She’d spied the pair from Five there, shuffling glumly through different types of plants in an almost dreamlike manner. “Hello,” Riin said upon arrival, drawing their attention, as well as the boy from Eleven who had been poking around the edible insect station. <em>Perfect.</em> She offered him an inviting smile. “You too, Eleven.”</p><p>The girl from Five eyed the newly-formed alliance cautiously. “What do you want?”</p><p>Riin glanced at her companions, taking in their expressions. Taylor’s face matched hers, though Melis and Echelle seemed hesitant, unsure what Riin had in mind. “We’re teaming up,” she said in an almost secretive whisper. “Protection against the others, and mutts and things. Do you guys want in?”</p><p>Three pairs of shocked eyes met hers. “You want to go against the Careers?” Eleven asked incredulously. </p><p>“We’re against them anyways,” Riin pointed out. “It’s the best chance for survival.”</p><p>There was a pause while the Fives peeked nervously at the Careers scattered around the gym. Eleven glanced from Riin to Taylor, and the Nines behind them. “To hell with it,” he said, shaking his curly red hair. “I’m in. Name’s Oriel. Oriel Ellison.” </p><p>He held out his hand, and Riin shook it. “Thariin Kres,” she said with a smile. The Fives agreed soon after, introducing themselves as Nedda Thompson and Teffrey Silvers. </p><p><em>This had better work.</em> Standing at seven members strong, Riin knew their alliance would still easily falter against a full-frontal battle with the Careers. Eight trained killers against the weakest tributes of the lot? They were hardly a match. However, unless every one of them were stupid enough to make a beeline for the center of the Bloodbath, the possibility of that was unlikely. </p><p>The seven of them spent the rest of the morning at the edible plants station, and Riin made note of the poisonous ones by default. She had no way of knowing which knowledge might be more important; best to know it all. </p><p>“These plants are nothing like the ones back home,” Nedda griped as the trainers dismissed them for lunch. </p><p>“What’s back home like?” Riin asked thoughtfully. </p><p>Nedda shrugged. “Lots of cacti, and different flowers too. Most of Five is pretty barren, but you can always find a prickly pear or something. I didn’t even see any back there!”</p><p>That seemed like an interesting lapse of judgement on the trainers’ part...or was it? It was the Gamemakers who set up the gymnasium, deciding which skills to make available for the tributes to learn. “Maybe the arena won’t be a desert, then.” </p><p>Taylor and Melis gave her a sidelong glance. “Huh,” Taylor said. “That would make sense, actually. Good thinking, Riin.”</p><p>After collecting their trays of lunch, the seven alliance members gathered around one of the available tables, taking up almost the whole space. Though not as many as the Careers’ pack, Riin felt the crowd of the six of them around her, pressing almost uncomfortably as they ate. Good thing she hadn’t gotten around to the Tens; they were attracting enough attention as it were. Riin was sandwiched between Oriel and Echelle, the former of whom thankfully still looked as slight and small as during his reaping. </p><p>“Hey Oriel, where’s your district partner?” Teffrey asked through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. </p><p>Riin felt him shrug against her shoulders. “Dunno. She disappeared this morning. Haven’t seen her since. She’s not too friendly.”</p><p>Mira had done what Riin and the Careers had, trying to beat the crowd to the first day of training, content to leave her weaker partner in the dust. </p><p>“Can’t really blame her,” Melis said forlornly. “I think she’s over there, though, with the Thirteens.” He pointed, and seven heads turned in the girl’s direction. As if alerted by the sudden scrutiny, Mira glanced back at them suspiciously. She muttered something to the boy from Thirteen, the unfortunately-named Victor Hadrian, and he turned towards them too, giving their alliance a friendly wave. Riin frowned at him, returning the gesture awkwardly. “Still can’t believe they named him ‘Victor’,” Melis muttered. </p><p>Riin let out a snort of laughter at that. Thankfully, nobody in her crowd was stupid enough to threaten them from a distance, returning their attention to the food on their plates. Better to save any bullying to the Careers, who could actually back up their threats. </p><p>Riin did take note of the pair from Seven sitting with them too. In fact, the only person sitting alone was Briar from Six. She seemed surprisingly content with that, going so far as to growl at her district mate when he set his tray down next to her. He’d scurried off to join the Twelves, leaving the pair from Ten alone at their own table. </p><p>Day one of training, and already the alliances were forming. She wondered which ones would stand the test of the arena. </p><p>A bout of raucous laughter erupted from the Careers’ table, and Riin turned her head slightly at the commotion. The girl from Three had her arms folded, glaring grumpily at her food while the others laughed around her. Riin watched as the boy from Two, Blade, tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention; with her head turned, her district partner swiped a cookie from her plate, earning another round of snickers from the group. She whipped around to glare at her partner, smacking him on the shoulder while he took a bite of her cookie, smirking. </p><p>Riin rolled her eyes, and suddenly Chase was staring back at her, the dangerous expression on his face contrasting with the cookie in his hand. <em>Shit.</em> She quickly averted her gaze back to her own table, the back of her neck prickling as she felt the stares of the whole pack. </p><p>This wasn’t good. She’d already drawn more attention from the Careers than she ever wanted to, and not just because of Loki’s costume. Showing up early, forming her alliance… Any attempt at survival was viewed as a threat to the pack. Riin couldn’t exactly blame them; she’d do the same in their position. But she wasn’t, and she intended to keep living. The only thing worse than a Career was a smart Career; Chase seemed to pose the biggest threat in that area. </p><p>Suddenly, Riin felt something hard slam into the back of her head, causing her to spill the glass of water she was about to drink. As she raised her hand to the point of impact, another bout of cackles erupted from the Career table. <em>Just great. </em></p><p>Next to her, Oriel reached to grab something from the floor, handing Riin a round red apple with a worried look on his face. Riin took it, glancing sideways at the Career table where Blade mimed a cutting motion across his throat. Determined to keep the sense of dread from spreading to her features, Riin dusted off the apple and took a bite, turning away from the Careers back to her own alliance. </p><p>Taylor and Echelle were staring at her with wide eyes. “<em>Fuck,</em> we are so dead,” Melis groaned, rubbing his forehead with a hand. </p><p>“Cut that out,” Riin snapped, despite her darker thoughts rather agreeing with him. </p><p>A bell signaled the end of lunch, cutting the train of conversation short.</p><p>Making sure that the area was clear of Careers first, Riin returned to the knife-throwing station. She instructed the alliance to split up for a while, sending Taylor, Melis, and Nedda to learn fire-starting and knot-tying, Teffrey and Echelle to long-ranged weapons, and dragged Oriel with herself to the knives. He made a bit of a fuss, whining about wanting to train with a sword.</p><p>“Do you not see half the Career pack over there?” Riin hissed at him, jutting her chin towards where Chase and Blade were expertly sparring the trainers with dual blades and a broadsword respectively. A couple of the other Careers cheered them on.</p><p>“I guess,” he huffed.</p><p>Heartily ignoring Oriel and the Careers, Riin set herself up with a dozen knives, throwing them, each in quick succession at one of the dummies. Three of them landed within six inches of her target, five on the outer rings; the last few didn’t stick. She retrieved them, and sent them flying again. Only four stuck, and nowhere near her target; she huffed in frustration. Changing the style of her throw, she tried again, with more success and only one knife bouncing off the plate. Retrieving them, she then threw the next four at a different target, then the last ones back at the original dummy.</p><p>Oriel followed her lead, but it turned out he couldn’t throw a knife for jack shit, so he focused instead on fighting with one. Riin joined him after a couple more throws, and they continued with the trainers there until the conclusion of the day’s session. </p><p>Her alliance briefly regrouped before they were all dismissed, and Melis jokingly suggested they come up with a team name. “Ooh, how about ‘Team Victors’, eh?”</p><p>Riin felt her eye twitch. <em>How about ‘Career Bait’,</em> she thought dryly. Out loud, she said, “That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”</p><p>“Yeah, only one of us can be the Victor,” Taylor reminded them. Melis looked a bit disheartened. “What about ‘Team Underdog’?” </p><p>They all agreed on that, Riin if only so they’d quit talking about idiotic team names. It was hard to believe she was the youngest of the bunch.</p><p>Back in the District Eight rooms, Riin and Taylor recounted their training experiences to their mentors and escort over dinner. “Did you get any hints to what we might be facing in there?” Riin asked Janus.</p><p>Janus shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works, Thariin.”</p><p>Riin narrowed her eyes. What the hell had he and Barnabas been doing all day, then? She asked as much.</p><p>“Someone has to acquire your sponsors, no?” That made sense, she supposed. “You two need to do a better job of not attracting attention,” Janus warned.</p><p>Right, the Careers. </p><p>How had that gone so wrong so fast? It must’ve been the damn parade costumes. </p><p>“We’ve got a decent amount of people in our alliance, though,” Riin said.</p><p>“Yeah, we even came up with a group name: Team Underdog,” Taylor said, a hint of pride in his voice. Scilla let out a low whistle of approval. </p><p>Riin gritted her teeth, and Janus raised an eyebrow. “Well, look at you.”</p><p>Barnabas yanked a mouthful of rabbit stew off his fork and pointed the utensil at Taylor. “It’s not a ball game, boy,” he snapped. Taylor flinched at his tone. “You’d better keep your eyes on your ‘teammates’ if you know what’s good for you.”</p><p>Was Barnabas talking about her? Riin didn’t like where this was going. </p><p>“Barnabas, enough,” Janus stepped in. “He’s not a child, he knows that well enough.”</p><p>“Oh, stick to your own tribute, Shyle,” Barnabas shot back, downing his glass of wine. He clambered off without another word, and Riin heard the distinct click of the door as he left the flat. </p><p>“Where’s he going?” Riin asked.</p><p>“Who cares,” Taylor grumbled. “Not like he’s going to help me anyways.” He pushed himself to his feet, sulking off to his quarters. </p><p>As if on cue, Scilla stood as well, following Barnabas’s path out of the flat. “Well, that was fun, but I’ve got parties to attend. Don’t wait up for me.”</p><p>And with that, Riin was left alone with Janus. Finally.</p><p>The Victor folded his hands expectantly, and Riin found her shoulders leaning forwards slightly as if to whisper a secret, which, of course, she was. In a low voice, she informed him of the things she’d noticed, and kept from Taylor. How Mira from Eleven had arrived early, just after the Careers. How Briar had arrived late. The interactions between the two Careers from Three. The Nines having received partial training from their Victors, to which Janus raised an eyebrow. Her predictions on the arena based on Nedda’s regional knowledge of plants. Briar, again, sitting alone at lunch, and chasing off her district partner. The strange friendliness of the unfortunately-named boy from Thirteen, Victor. Oriel’s ineptitude for throwing knives. </p><p>They talked for what felt like hours before Janus decided to move them to the couches, switching on the television so it would be more difficult to overhear the conversation. Together, she and Janus built a picture of the tributes she’d face, based on their repertoire of available information: reaping ceremonies, the tribute parade, Riin’s training day experiences, and bits and pieces from Janus’s interactions with the other mentors. </p><p>Apparently, both mentors from Three favored Chase to win over his counterpart. Riin wondered if the girl was aware of the fact, and if that’s what was driving the wedge between them. </p><p>A thought popped into Riin’s brain. “What did you tell them about me?” </p><p>Janus smiled in response. On anyone else’s face, it might’ve been reassuring. “Nothing they couldn’t have figured out for themselves.” </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In which Riin begrudgingly lets Karl call her by the nickname ‘Riin’... she’s very particular about that, she only lets certain people - like her family, or me lol - call her that. </p><p>List of named tributes so far:<br/>District 1: Nova (F)<br/>District 2: Blade (M)<br/>District 3: Chase Vesto (M)<br/>District 5: Nedda Thompson (F), Teffrey Silvers (M)<br/>District 6: Briar Sannibel (F)<br/>District 8: Thariin Kres (F), Karl Taylor (M)<br/>District 9: Echelle Kaperton (F), Melis Dray (M)<br/>District 11: Mira Tempé (F), Oriel Ellison (M)<br/>District 13: Victor Hadrian (M) </p><p>All of the tributes have names obvi, and Riin is the type of person to keep track of that, but I don’t want to bore you guys (or myself) by listing them out in the writing lol. I will keep a list of remaining tributes at the bottom of the author’s notes once we start getting into the actual Games too !</p><p>Also, apologies again if anyone is finding the pre-Games stuff boring.. I’m going through them in detail because it’s important for the story, I promise ! They may not be in the arena yet, but the Games have already started (:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Puppetmaster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/GsdTzuEvBHg">Art of War</a> by Angelspit</p><p>(Edgy™️)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Day two of training was much of the same as the previous one, and Riin spent her time getting to know her allies, their strengths, and - more importantly - their weaknesses. </p><p>Melis and Echelle had a knack for hand-to-hand combat, but the former tended to dawdle on unimportant decisions, and the latter was indecisive. Nedda was bossy and impatient, but slow, both with weapons and logic. Teffrey was just about the most boring person that Riin had ever met, though he threw a spear pretty decently. Oriel knew a decent amount about plants, in addition to what Riin had observed yesterday, but he was <em>annoying</em>, whining about Riin’s decision to split the group amongst the survival skills rather than the weapons. </p><p>And, as for Taylor… he trusted her, for now. His weakness, but her strength. </p><p>Although, she couldn’t discount her companion’s obvious physical superiority compared to herself. He easily lifted the heaviest of swords - after Riin felt confident that the group could move on from survival skills - though properly wielding them was another matter entirely. </p><p>Together, ‘Team Underdog’ made up the largest non-Career alliance that Riin could ever remember seeing in the Hunger Games. <em>Maybe there’s a reason for that,</em> her brain supplied unhelpfully. </p><p>Thankfully, their alliance did a better job of staying away from the Careers this time around, due, in no small part, to Riin’s diligence. She kept them on opposite sides of the gymnasium; when the pack switched stations, her alliance subtly followed, which kept them tethered near the survival stations - camouflage, knots and snares, fire-starting, the works. However, she managed to get some decent knife-throwing practice in with Echelle before lunch while the Careers raced each other on the ropes and agility courses.</p><p>At lunch, they regrouped, and Riin beckoned them into a huddle around their table. “We need to figure out supplies, when we get into the arena.”</p><p>Her allies shared nervous glances. They knew what she meant: supplies from the Cornucopia. At least one of them would have to enter the Bloodbath.</p><p>“Okay, whoever’s the fastest could go in and grab something,” Melis suggested.</p><p>Riin opened her mouth to argue - as she felt sure that she’d be nominated - but Oriel spoke first. “I dunno, my mentor said not to.”</p><p>“But what if that’s the only way to get food and stuff?” Nedda piped up, uncertainty in her tone. “They’ve done that before.”</p><p>“Maybe they won’t do it again, then,” Oriel countered. </p><p>The gears in Riin’s brain spun fast; she remembered her conversation with Janus and how she’d planned to trick Taylor into going in. “We’re going to need weapons,” she reminded them. “Only the strongest of us would be able to make it back out again.” Her eyes flicked over Taylor, Melis, and Echelle for a split second, not enough to single them out to the group, but enough for them to catch her meaning. </p><p>“She’s right,” Taylor said. </p><p>“Of course you’d agree with her,” Melis mumbled, and Riin bristled slightly. She needed them to trust her. </p><p>“Look, we’d have each other’s backs, right?” The ‘for now’ was evident in Taylor’s words, but nobody pointed that out. “If a couple of us go in, we can watch out for each other. I’ll keep them off your back and you’ll keep them off mine?”</p><p>Melis still looked apprehensive at the thought. “Yeah, but…”</p><p>“How about this,” Riin began. “If we get there and it looks too dangerous, you can always run back out. The rest of us can pick up stuff from the outside so we won’t have nothing, okay?”</p><p>It was as good a plan as any, really. </p><p>“It’ll probably be more tempting when we’re actually there,” Echelle pointed out. “You’re fast enough to get in and out, I know it.” She gave Melis a reassuring smile. </p><p>Was Echelle purposely throwing her district partner into the fire too? It was hard to tell; her smile looked soft and seemed to do the trick for Melis. Echelle didn’t have a conniving air about her, but maybe that was just part of her ploy. Riin narrowed her eyes slightly. If that was her game, then why would she let it slip that she trained with her Victors back home? That could hurt more than just her prospect in the Games; if that rumor got back to the Capitol, it could affect her whole District as well. Riin wondered if Janus had let slip that little fact to anyone. </p><p>Peeking over Taylor’s shoulder, Riin glanced at the Careers’ table; they were huddled together just like hers, though they broke apart when the girl from Three appeared from the bathrooms. She seemed to notice her supposed intrusion to the pack, her features twisting into an annoyed expression at her obvious exclusion. </p><p>The lunch bell rang, and Team Underdog took on the weapons stations in pairs as best they could. Echelle and Teffrey started with bows and spears respectively, Oriel and Taylor exploring the sword station, and Riin and the others occupying the knife-fighting trainer. </p><p>Riin enjoyed this almost as much as throwing the knives, and the trainer praised her agility as she cartwheeled out of reach of the woman’s blade. She caught Nedda eyeing her jealously as another trainer corrected her poor form. Melis wasn’t paying attention to either of them at all; he wore a look of concentration as he tore up the dummy with his blade. Riin was willing to bet that their lunchtime plan weighed heavily on his mind. </p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, Riin noticed the girl from One and the boy from Two making their way over to her station. Nova and Blade, arguably the worst of the lot. Not wanting to get caught up in their bullying, Riin directed Nedda and Melis over towards the web of climbing ropes. </p><p>Going on memory from gym class at school, Riin shimmied up the rope as quickly as she could. It was harder than it looked, especially without knots to give her some footing, and by the time she reached the netting overhead, her arms burned from exertion. </p><p>However, the effort was worth it; from her perch on the ceiling, Riin got a fantastic bird’s eye view of the whole gymnasium. </p><p>The rest of the Careers were at their weapons stations, as expected, while the other tributes dotted the surrounding areas. Nova was demolishing Blade with her knife-throwing while Chase and his district partner occupied the nearby archery station, escalating their discussion from lunch. Riin wouldn’t quite call it an argument, but she observed the tension brewing between them with pleasure. Her eyes scanned over the survival stations, where the tributes from Thirteen and Seven examined plants, or insects — she couldn’t tell from this height. The girl from Eleven, Mira, sidled towards their party just as the boy from Thirteen popped one of their specimens into his mouth; likely an insect, judging by the group's reactions. </p><p>The bald girl from Six, Briar, remained alone, beating the stuffing out of a dummy with a rudimentary club. She caught the pair from Four laughing at her display and flipped them a rude gesture, which only made them snicker more.</p><p>A thought sparked in Riin’s brain, and she shifted her gaze away from the tributes below. </p><p>Almost parallel to her plane of vision, she could clearly see the Gamemakers lounging in their viewing box, roosting over the training grounds like lazy morning doves. Silent, motionless servants and tables heavy with food and drink surrounded them like sacrificial offerings to lesser gods. </p><p>Most of the Gamemakers sat in fluffy plush chairs, chatting as they observed. One of them, however, inspected the scene below him like a hawk, eyeing the tributes like the pawns they were, no doubt searching for the most violent and entertaining way to piece them together. The Head Gamemaker. He must be; no one else’s job relied on a successful Game more than his. He couldn’t afford a mistake, a boring Game. Riin’s eyes narrowed. He was her enemy as much as any of the tributes. </p><p>What kind of Game did he have planned for them? What type of unique hell would be born from his mind? Muttations, arenas, weapons, food, water...all either a punishment or a mercy from the man before her. </p><p>Almost as if he felt her staring, the Head Gamemaker’s shrewd gaze turned towards her direction, finding her easily. Riin started at him unashamedly, wanting to assert herself as a contender rather than another pawn. Her life depended on how much she impressed him, here and in the arena. Staying alive meant playing his Game, and she intended to oblige. She nodded curtly, acknowledging his attention, and flicked her chin towards the Career pack - now conglomerated around a stack of spears - and back at the Head Gamemaker. A silent question. He gave a small, knowing smile in response, neither reassuring nor condemning, before turning his focus back to the twenty-five other tributes. </p><p>Riin continued to watch him and the rest of the Gamemakers for a while, analyzing their behavior until someone tugged irritatingly on the rope beneath her. She looked down to see Nedda standing indignantly with her hands on her hips. Riin rolled her eyes but clambered down from the ropes to give her ally a shot at the course. </p><p>____</p><p>Head Gamemaker Killian Aquila stood at attention, his hands folded behind his back as he watched over the training sessions. While his peers and subordinates persisted in their merrymaking, Killian watched the scene below, the sound of their antics fading into the background as he became absorbed in thought. The Games were in his hands, and they trusted him. </p><p>Experience reminded him that the success of this year's Games depended more on the tributes themselves than anything he and his team could create. After all, what good was an intricately designed arena, a genetically modified game of chess, if his tributes weren’t smart enough to play? </p><p>His tributes determined how emotionally - and financially - invested the citizens of the Capitol would be in the Games. A Gamemaker either knew this, or didn’t. Those who didn’t… Well, they didn’t last long. </p><p>Killian knew better than anyone; he’d been Panem’s Head Gamemaker for eighteen years, and counting. Debuting with a Quarter Quell had been a stroke of luck, but it was sheer talent that had kept him the job, and his head. </p><p>This year’s reaping had gifted him an interesting bunch, though how many of them would make it past his initial machinations, he couldn’t be sure. He had his predictions, of course; top eight, top five, top two, even. But never the Victor. That, he left up to his tributes themselves, always. </p><p>They presented themselves before him in kind, and everyone was where he expected them to be.</p><p>The Career pack hounded the weapons stations, displaying extreme excellence and precision with their weapons of choice, and many in more than one area. Both the female tribute from District Two and the male tribute from District Three demonstrated exquisite accuracy with a bow and arrows. And from District One, the girl showed a lovely finesse with an array of knives. District Four with their tridents, as usual, and the boy - man, really - from District Two lived up to his namesake with a sword in hand. </p><p>Movement by the archery station brought Killian’s attention to the pair from Three again, and he’d be an idiot not to notice their terse exchanges, their clenched fists. <em>Wonderful</em>, he thought with absolute sincerity. The Games haven’t even officially begun, and already the Careers bristled with tension, promising an exciting consequence in the arena. </p><p>His eyes flicked over the other budding alliances, contemplating how many of them would withstand the Bloodbath ahead. The Tens, still sticking together today. The pair from District Twelve and the male tribute from Six. The interesting alliance with the District Eleven female, the Sevens, and the odd pair from District Thirteen.</p><p>The Thirteens tended to be a strange bunch; maybe it was from living underground, or the leftover radiation mixing up their heads. Had to be that; who else would dare name their child ‘Victor’? </p><p>Although, that in itself offered an intriguing route to the Games. District Thirteen hadn’t had a Victor in a while. A little spark of hope, a tug at the heartstrings, maybe. Oh, he was lucky with his tributes indeed. </p><p>And there, interestingly, the female tribute from District Six, all alone. Curious. Killian had heard tell of her behavior at the tribute parade; everything about the girl - her tattoos, her demeanor, her actions - screamed ‘rebellious.’ What a Victor she would make… <em>Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Killian,</em> came the mental warning. Then again, perhaps it would be better to take her out of the Games early. He couldn’t lie, though; he was intrigued. </p><p>Of course, he couldn’t ignore the notable seven-tribute outer-district alliance, perhaps the largest in recent Hunger Games history, if it stuck through to the Games. Currently, they had split into pairs to tackle the different stations… But that wasn’t right; he counted only six. Where was their leader?</p><p>Hair rose on the back of his neck, and Killian flicked his eyes upward. There she was, nestled in the ropes, like a careful spider in its web. Staring at him. </p><p>For a heartbeat, Killian felt like a small child, caught doing something he shouldn’t. Ridiculous. It was his job to analyze each tribute. </p><p>He just hadn’t expected one to return the favor.</p><p>In all his years as Gamemaker, he’d never encountered this much scrutiny from any of his pawns. Victors, maybe, but tributes? They were too busy with each other to look for the man behind the curtain. The District Eight girl’s gaze was hardly accusative like the Victors’ tended to be; yes, he’d encountered plenty of those. Hers, rather, was calculating. Inquisitive. </p><p>The tribute jerked her head towards the Careers below, raising an eyebrow when she met his eyes again. Her request was evident. He wanted to laugh - a tribute, asking something like that of him! - but he settled for an almost-imperceptible smile. </p><p>Dutifully, the girl took it in stride, but remained in her net, observing. Killian let her, his eyes drifting towards the other tributes, though his thoughts remained focused on her behavior. Even now, he could tell that this year’s Games would only require only slight adjustments from his practiced hand, and the tributes would fall into place.</p><p>That didn’t mean Killian could sit back and relax, however. No, he still held the cards, and play them he would.</p><p>____</p><p>It wasn’t until after dinner that Riin managed to get her mentor alone. “Janus,” she demanded, calling his attention. “Tell me about the Head Gamemaker.”</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shorter chapter than usual, sorry. Thought it would be interesting to see the Gamemaker’s POV.. he’s. Something. Not someone I’d ever want to meet irl.. then again, I wouldn’t want to meet Riin irl either. She’d have it out for me lol.</p><p>Let me know what you think of this one!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Assess and Transgress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/vFhko4OzyqQ">Deception</a> by The Crüxshadows</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin spent almost the entire morning at the plant and wildlife station, checking again and again that she had memorized the poisonous and edible flora perfectly. She allowed herself a brief couple of minutes warming up for physical activity, getting a feel for the day of how her throwing skills had progressed. Earlier, Janus had run her through what she’d be presenting to the Gamemakers, but Riin knew it still wasn’t good enough. </p><p>Every now and then, she glanced up at their viewing box where Killian Aquila stood with his team, his hawk-like eyes following the progression of the tributes. </p><p>Riin’s nerves felt on end, tangling themselves like a wayward spool of thread. She still hadn’t figured out what she was going to do during her evaluation session. Logically, a moderate score would be her goal. ‘Moderate’ encouraged the stronger tributes to ignore her until it was too late. But would ‘moderate’ encourage the Gamemakers to ignore her as well? </p><p>Sneak under the noses of the tributes; impress the Gamemakers. It was a delicate balance. </p><p>Riin hoped her brief interaction with Aquila had instilled in his mind that she was a competitor, that she intended to survive his Games. The evaluations, it seemed, were his way of saying, <em>Show me how.</em> </p><p>Riin didn’t know. She tried not to let the anxiety overtake her.</p><p>Too fast, the minutes ticked by. With the conclusion of their lunch hour, the tributes were led to a waiting area outside of the gymnasium for the individual sessions to begin. Riin took her seat between Taylor and Melis and was reminded again just how small she was compared to her competitors. <em>Control yourself.</em> A feminine voice on the intercom called the boy from District One; after fifteen minutes, he didn’t reappear, and his counterpart was summoned for her session. Riin wondered if something had happened to him, but the trend continued. Nobody returned from their session, and the number of tributes in the waiting room gradually shrank. </p><p>Riin quietly schooled her breathing into an even pattern, hoping her allies - competitors - didn’t notice her nerves. It helped, surprisingly, and Riin felt a sense of calm determination drift over herself. </p><p>By the time her District Five allies disappeared into the evaluation room, Riin’s outward demeanor could’ve been described as bored. </p><p>Next to her, Taylor patted his knees, his feet tapping frantically. It was starting to get on Riin’s nerves, and it certainly wasn’t helping her maintain her newfound calm. “Oh boy, I’m nervous,” he admitted. </p><p>“Clearly,” Riin said dryly, and he let out a strained laugh. </p><p>From Melis’s other side, Echelle poked her head out. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Karl,” she said reassuringly. </p><p>“And even if you don’t, the scores don’t really matter anyway,” Melis added on. </p><p>“Thanks,” Taylor said sarcastically. He frowned apologetically at his own curtness. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just—“</p><p>“Karl Taylor. District Eight.” </p><p>He jumped at hearing his name over the intercom, standing up with a tense smile. “See you guys on the flip side,” he said with a wave. </p><p>“Good luck, Karl,” Riin responded. </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, the intercom sounded again, speaking with an even tone. “Thariin Kres. District Eight.”</p><p>Riin stood, squaring her shoulders. No turning back. She gave her allies a small smile as they wished her luck, then stepped through the doors into the empty gymnasium. </p><p>Everything was set out as it had been before; there was no sign that any of the other tributes had run their course here. It felt so large and lifeless without the presence of the others, the clanging of swords as the Careers showed off, the idle chatter of the trainers and budding alliances. The Gamemakers sat overhead still, in their viewing box - a constant presence throughout the ordeal. Most of them glanced at her only briefly, more entertained by the hors d'oeuvres floating past on wordless servants. Killian Aquila, though, followed her path to the center of the floor. </p><p>“Thariin Kres, welcome,” he said, his voice almost bored, wearing a polite smile across his features. “Please, show us your skills. You have fifteen minutes.”</p><p>Riin nodded meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Aquila.”</p><p>She had his attention; now she needed to keep it. The remainder of her nerves seemed to evaporate - it was just the two of them that mattered now. She headed towards the knife-throwing section first, aware that her talent here was lacking, though too important not to display. Missing a couple throws was expected, and she wouldn’t waste too much time here. Just enough to show them she knew the skill well enough. </p><p>Grabbing a set of twelve knives, Riin placed herself at the center of the throwing targets, strapping the knife sheath to her leg. With a blade in each hand, she faced the nearest target, sending the knife in her right hand spinning towards the bulls-eye. It struck the human-shaped board in the arm — outside of the target zone, but it stuck — and Riin had already drawn another knife, throwing the one in her left hand simultaneously at the same target. </p><p>That was a bad idea; it clattered off the board embarrassingly loudly, and Riin thought she heard chuckles from the crowd of Gamemakers above. She ignored them, throwing two more knives at different targets. They both stuck, one of them within the outer circles around the target’s heart. Riin continued throwing, making sure to switch up her grip and throwing arms as part of the show. </p><p>In the end, only two knives had landed on the floor and five within the target zone, another four sticking out at various angles from the dummies. She had one left in her sheath; stealthily, she moved to conceal it within the waistband of her pants. The throwing was good enough for her to feel pleased, and she glanced up to see the Gamemakers’ reactions. Killian Aquila’s expression hadn’t changed while the others still only watched her with mild interest. She wondered if any of them had noticed her hide the knife. If they did, they said nothing. </p><p>Throwing had taken her a couple seconds, maybe a minute. Riin had no intention of continuing; the knives had been spent, for that at least, and she moved on, calling for a trainer to act as a sparring partner. Aquila waved his hand, and an athletic woman jogged over to Riin, the same woman who ran the hand-to-hand station for the past two sessions. Riin gave her a hesitant smile, readying her fists protectively in front of herself. The trainer gave Riin an encouraging nod, and Riin struck out, following the motions the woman had taught her. The woman dodged, raising her knee in preparation for a kick to Riin’s side. Riin saw it coming and ducked out of range; the trainer came at her again with a quick jab to the shoulder, knocking the tribute slightly off-balance. </p><p>The trainer certainly wasn’t going as easy as she had during the instruction time, Riin thought with a grimace. Riin swung at her again, striking her weakly in the side as the trainer dodged yet again, following up with a flurry of punches that Riin barely managed to block. The trainer’s motions left her leaning toward her right, and Riin lashed out with a kick to catch her again in the side — harder this time, judging by the woman’s exhaled wheeze. </p><p>Apparently, she’d had enough of Riin’s antics; the trainer ducked low, sweeping out with her leg and knocking Riin off her feet. Riin landed hard on her back, gasping as the air was stolen from her lungs, and the trainer had her pinned within a heartbeat. Before the trainer could restrain her victim’s arms, Riin grasped at the knife on her waistband, pressing the cold blade to her opponent’s stomach. The trainer’s eyes widened in surprise and she froze. They held the position for a second, panting from the exertion. Then, the trainer stood, helping Riin to her feet. “Well done,” she praised.</p><p>“Thanks,” Riin said, adding a hint of sheepishness to her tone. She looked back at the Gamemakers; she’d caught more of their attention with her concealed knife trick, and Aquila gave her an approving nod, his expression unchanging by the inch. </p><p>Riin wasn’t quite sure how much time she had left when an idea flickered into her mind. A very stupid, very bad idea, but she couldn’t resist the possibility that she could pull it off. She glanced at the edible plant station, which looked relatively untouched, the sprigs of plants and berries almost exactly where Riin had left them this morning. She made her way towards the station, and the trainer took that as her cue to leave. </p><p>“Wait,” Riin said, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turned around curiously. “I still need your help.”</p><p>The woman frowned at her. “There’s not much I can help you with there,” she said dismissively. </p><p>Riin’s expression morphed into one of concern. “Please?” she asked, her tone laced with worry. “I’m a bit nervous about this one,” she lied. Riin was actually quite confident in her memorization skills, but that wasn’t what she planned on showing off. </p><p>The trainer glanced at Aquila and he nodded, allowing Riin to continue with her intentions. Perhaps he had noticed how much time Riin had spent at this station during training; she thought she detected a flash of curiosity across his features. </p><p>Riin sat down in front of the array of various plants, and the trainer crouched down next to her. “Not really sure what you need me to do,” she said questioningly. </p><p>“I just want to make sure I don't get them wrong,” Riin said, using the gardening gloves provided to pick up a dandelion flower from the pile and placing it in front of her. She didn’t know if she had the time to sort all of them, but if things went right, she wouldn’t need to. </p><p>“I can’t tell you the answers,” the woman said, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>Picking up two sprigs of a small multi-flowered plant, Riin said, “I know.” She inspected the two thoroughly; hemlock and Queen Anne’s lace. The difference was easily noticeable by the droplet of red in the center of the latter, and the shapes of the flower clusters. “I always mix up these two,” she sighed in faux frustration. </p><p>The trainer shrugged. “I’m really not the person to go to for this,” she said, mild irritation in her voice. </p><p>Riin placed the hemlock next to the dandelion, and the lace in its own pile. A second later, she switched them, and then switched them again. Glancing nervously at the trainer and then at the Gamemakers, Riin switched the plants yet again, sorted into their correct piles. She continued with the clovers and the blackberries, adding them to the dandelion pile while she placed an oleander bloom in with the hemlock. She made her hesitation clear for some of the more obvious ones, feeling the trainer’s frustration as she struggled with a branch of red baneberry.</p><p>She kept her mind on the time still, unsure how much she had left, but knowing it wasn’t much. The trainer glanced away with a sigh of annoyance, and Riin quickly removed a few of the bright red berries, hiding them in her hand as she placed the baneberry into the ‘poisonous’ pile. </p><p>Riin’s other hand moved to pluck the largest strawberry from the unsorted pile, and she held it in her palm, staring intently at the seed-speckled berry. The trainer was staring at her again, expectantly waiting for Riin to place the strawberry into the pile of edible plants, but Riin frowned at it in confusion. “I think this one’s poisonous,” she said out loud. The trainer blinked again, staring at Riin like she was an idiot. “Look,” Riin said, handing her the strawberry.</p><p>The woman took it, obliging Riin by inspecting the berry herself. She found nothing unusual with it; it was just a strawberry. She handed it back to Riin, a pained smile on her face. “Sweetheart, that’s a strawberry.”</p><p>Riin held the strawberry up close to her face, removing the leaves and stem from the berry to give it a more thorough investigation. “It looks poisonous to me,” she said hesitantly. </p><p>The trainer’s eye twitched, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, unable to bear looking at Riin’s apparent stupidity with her own eyes. While her gaze was turned away, Riin stealthily stuffed as many baneberries as she could fit into the hollowed-out inside of the strawberry. When the trainer glanced back at Riin, the tribute was holding the strawberry an inch from her eyes, scanning it with pursed lips. “I know you probably don’t get strawberries out in the districts,” the woman said, “but it’s really not poisonous.”</p><p>Did all Capitol people think like this? Of course they had strawberries; Riin’s father liked to make strawberry jam from the bushels they bought from the market every summer. Right now, though, the trainer’s biased opinion worked in Riin’s favor. <em>Come on, you fool.</em> She worked her expression into one of uneasiness. “I really think it is,” she said. “It’s all bright red and stuff.”</p><p>A deep sigh emanated from the trainer’s gritted teeth. </p><p>“I definitely wouldn’t eat this,” Riin said with an air of having come to her decision. </p><p>“It’s just a damn strawberry, it’s not poisonous.”</p><p>“But what if it is?”</p><p>“<em>Oh my god.</em>” The trainer clearly had enough of Riin’s bullshit; she snatched the berry right from Riin’s grasp before the latter could sort it into the ‘poisonous’ pile. “Look,” she said, popping the strawberry into her mouth before Riin could say anything. </p><p>Riin’s eyes widened in mock surprise as she watched the trainer chew and swallow the seemingly harmless berry. She bit her lip to hide a smile of satisfaction; the trainer had ingested the entire fruit, giving Riin a condescending scowl as she got to her feet. <em>She actually ate it; what an idiot!</em></p><p>“See, it’s perfectly fine,” she said, wrinkling her nose at Riin’s supposed concern. </p><p>Riin stood to her full height, not much compared to the grown woman in front of her, and narrowed her eyes, dropping the aura of nervous apprehension. “Is it?” she asked rhetorically, her tone sharp, the corners of her mouth curling upwards despite herself. </p><p>The trainer frowned at Riin’s sudden change of character, her eyebrows knitting together in uncertainty. </p><p>Motion flickered in the corner of Riin’s eye and her gaze flicked up toward the Gamemaker’s box, where Aquila had moved closer to the barrier, almost close enough to lean over the railing. The rest of the Gamemakers crowded behind them like crows on a dead dog; she finally had their full attention. Had they seen what she did? Riin had no idea if there were any legal repercussions for poisoning the trainer, though the Games were probably enough. “Your fifteen minutes are up, Miss Kres. If you would please exit—“</p><p>A loud <em>thump</em> interrupted him, the trainer had chosen that moment to drop to the floor in an unconscious heap. Riin took a step back to avoid treading on the woman’s hair. Stunned silence drifted over the crowd of Gamemakers, though Aquila’s face remained unchanged.</p><p>“I told you it was poisonous,” Riin said, not bothering to disguise her snark.</p><p>From above, Aquila waved his hand lazily. “Somebody get a medic.” </p><p>A minute later, two people in white coats arrived to drag the trainer away on a stretcher. Riin tugged on one of their jackets; the medic turned to face her, annoyed that she had interrupted their work. “Baneberry poisoning,” Riin said, and the medics nodded, taking their leave and hefting the trainer between them. </p><p>Riin’s gaze returned to Aquila, finding the Head Gamemaker staring back at her, unfazed by the conundrum. “Thank you Miss Kres. You may leave.”</p><p>She still couldn’t read his expression, but it was clear she’d overstayed her welcome. Turning on her heel, Riin strode out of the gymnasium, punching in her floor number at the elevator.</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It took me a while to figure out what I wanted Riin to do during her training session.. I’d written a lot of the arena scenes before writing this one lol. I figured if any of my OCs could pull this kind of shit, it’s Riin</p><p>As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on my story and characters !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Just a Number</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/MupnhmZWXCQ">Miserlou</a> by Agent Orange</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin didn’t say a word as she entered the flat, the Victors, stylists, and Scilla circled around the screen projector where a program debated possible training scores for the range of tributes. Briefly, she wondered just how much of the Capitol’s everyday life was tied to the Games; enough of their citizens’ lifestyles seemed to depend on the annual slaughter of children. The Gamemakers needed tributes for their display of power, just as the tributes depended on the Gamemakers to show them mercy. Even now, Aquila gathered his game pieces, plotting the best way to arrange them for maximum entertainment. Riin could only hope that she’d showed him enough to warrant a sliver of a chance at survival. </p><p>The gallery turned their heads towards Riin upon her entry. “Ah, Thariin. Just in time,” Janus greeted.</p><p>Acknowledging that she’d be expected to watch when the scores came out, Riin seated herself in the armchair she’d claimed the first day, curling her legs against her chest. “For what?”</p><p>“We were just discussing what you and Karl might have shown the Gamemakers during your session. Would you care to provide?”</p><p>Riin hesitated. She hadn’t seen Taylor upon her return; she’d rather not share her session with him. Better to reveal as little as possible, in case Barnabas decided to consult with him. </p><p>However, the more she thought about it, the more she worried that her actions against the trainer might impact her score in a negative manner. “What happens if you harm the trainers during your private session?”</p><p>Janus’s polite smile hardened into a line. Not good. Scilla let out a snort. “Save it for the Games, why don’t you?” </p><p>Riin didn’t bother answering, her eyes fixed on Janus’s face. He let out a frustrated sigh. “That depends on the Gamemaker,” he said finally. “Killian Aquila plays a subtle game. He prizes craftiness over brute killing force, but don’t underestimate his dedication to the game. He’s held his position as Head Gamemaker for so long because he’s good at it. A tribute,” he said, looking away from her briefly, “can only get so far.” What was that supposed to mean? There had to be a winner, didn’t there? How much farther did you need to get? “What <em>exactly</em> did you do?”</p><p>She opened her mouth to answer just as the door to Taylor’s quarters clicked open, revealing the tribute’s concerned expression. “I hope yours went better than mine,” he said, a hint of nervousness overshadowing the feeble attempt to make light of his fear. </p><p>Riin pursed her lips in a mock empathetic grimace. “What happened?” </p><p>Taylor sighed, plopping down on the chair opposite hers. “I tried throwing the spears first. I missed them all.” He scowled, frustrated. “I did the ropes course alright, but I think I had lost the Gamemakers’ interest. And then the damn sword trainer kicked me so hard in the ribs, I wasted my last couple of minutes trying to catch my breath. They probably think I’m worthless. I’m-I’m going to die in the arena, aren’t I?”</p><p><em>Yes, you are.</em> Riin watched as his frustration solidified into fear; she could almost see his mind racing behind his eyes, his arms wrapped protectively around his chest as he tried to control his breathing. Was he about to have a panic attack? Riin didn’t know how to deal with that. “We’ve got our alliance, Karl,” she reminded him. </p><p>“Right...right,” he nodded, convincing himself with the thought. “Safety in numbers. They have to let us have that.”</p><p>Riin gave him a smile that she hoped looked sincere. “The scores don’t really matter, anyways.” A blatant lie. Oh well. She turned to the two Victors. “Do either of you remember what you got?”</p><p>“Eight,” Barnabas said immediately.</p><p>“Five,” Janus said. </p><p>Of course they remembered. </p><p>Janus had played his game through stealth and deception, Riin recalled. It took no particular skill to slaughter your allies in their sleep; at least not one that could be easily shown during the evaluation sessions. Barnabas had won through a combination of physical strength and luck, though mostly the latter. Riin would need a fair amount of that during her time in the arena, she knew. </p><p>Taylor looked somewhat comforted by this information. He really shouldn’t be, but Riin wasn’t about to change his mind again. She would need his confidence to hold their alliance together, for a time at least. She’d be limited in what she could do on her own if even her district partner began to waver in faith. </p><p>The train of thought was interrupted by the nation’s anthem as the projector lit up; they were announcing the scores. Riin’s nerves made a reappearance with the music. </p><p>The Gamemakers give the scores out of thirteen, based on the number of districts. She’d heard they used to rank them out of twelve, before the Second Rebellion, but with thirteen, there was a solid halfway mark. Riin hoped for at least a seven. </p><p>District One raked in a ten and an eleven respectively, standard for Careers, but rare for tributes like herself. District Two was much of the same; the eleven that popped up next to Blade’s name congealing to the pit in her stomach. The Careers usually scored in the double-digits; the nine that appeared next to the female tribute from Three must be rather embarrassing. </p><p>Riin forgot about it completely when the number twelve flashed in bold font next to Chase’s picture. <em>Twelve.</em> She couldn’t remember ever seeing a score that high. Taylor glanced at her nervously, and Riin noticed Janus staring unblinkingly at the screen. </p><p>“Yikes, good luck with that one,” Scilla commented with a mirthless laugh. </p><p>“Quiet,” Barnabas snapped. </p><p>The pair from Four both scored tens, and then her allies from Five were next. A solid four appeared next to Nedda’s name, and Riin could practically hear the girl’s desperate whining. Teffrey did marginally better, managing a seven. Probably the spears. Riin kept track of their scores as she waited for the others to appear. </p><p>To her surprise, Briar from Six got a nine. Riin wondered what she showed the Gamemakers; probably more than just hurling insults at them, like Riin might’ve suspected. </p><p>The Sevens performed intermediately, a seven for the boy and a five for the girl. Taylor’s portrait appeared next, also accompanied by the number seven. Popular score. He sighed in relief from his seat next to Riin. </p><p>Riin bit her lip; she was next. Her portrait flashed on the screen, frowning back at her. To the right of her face, the number ten. </p><p>
  <em>Ten!</em>
</p><p>Riin blinked in disbelief, her eyes wide with surprise. <em>A ten!</em> So Aquila had liked her show after all. A grin of pride began to spread across her features. Her little trick had earned her a score on-par with the Careers. </p><p>“Riin, that’s incredible!” Taylor exclaimed. “What did you do?”</p><p>The rest of the District Eight entourage took the news with calm appreciation. “Well done, Thariin.” That was Janus, giving her a cautious smile. Of course, she knew what it meant; the score would make her a target. Chase’s unattainable twelve flashed again in her mind's eye. Still, Riin couldn’t dampen the feeling of pride. </p><p>In response to Taylor’s question, Riin shrugged. “I guess they liked me more than they let on.”</p><p>Despite the danger of a high score, the mood of the room brightened noticeably. Her allies in District Nine both received scores of eight. Melis and Echelle hadn’t been bluffing about their training from their district’s Victors, as minimal as they had made it sound. </p><p>The scores from Ten were abysmally low. Riin was more interested in those from Eleven: Oriel received a score of six, and Mira a ten as well. Riin frowned at the girl’s score, dying to know what she did for a score that high; she almost winced at the poor terminology of her thoughts. </p><p>District Twelve’s scores mirrored those of Ten, and Thirteen’s were even worse. Victor’s smiling portrait appeared with a four next to it. The Gamemakers were having a bit too much fun, she thought. </p><p>The announcer finished up the program, segueing into another where a pair of co-hosts began to break down each tribute’s scores. They even brought one of the Gamemakers out to discuss; not Aquila, though. The hosts were getting nowhere by picking the Gamemaker for answers, so Riin turned her attention away from them as the District Eight team gathered for dinner. </p><p>Scooping herself a helping of mashed potatoes, Riin quickly did the math; her alliance had a strong average training score, brought low by whatever had earned Nedda a four and Oriel a six. Compared to the Career’s average score, it was pathetically low. If she managed to get rid of Nedda and Oriel early on, their alliance - Riin refused to refer to them as ‘Team Underdog’ - might stand a better chance, despite having less bodies.</p><p>Throughout their meal, Riin could sense Janus’s attention on her. Sure enough, once a flock of Avoxes cleared away their plates, her mentor ushered her aside for a private chat. </p><p>“Well, thanks to your stylist and your training score, I think we have to throw out our original plan for you to lay low,” he said with a sigh. Was he disappointed in her? Afraid for her? Probably the former; he’d lost too many tributes to put any more emotional stock in them. In her. </p><p>Riin’s gaze turned downwards. “I know,” she said quietly. With the way Chase had been glaring ever since the parade, how could she not? Had she sacrificed her life for a few seconds of pride in impressing the Gamemakers? </p><p>“You’ll have a target on your back,” Janus continued. “Fortunately, the Gamemakers wouldn’t give you a score that high for nothing. Tell me what you showed them. Do not leave anything out.”</p><p>So she told him, word for word, what she did. </p><p>A smile began to spread on Janus’s face; it wasn’t encouraging. A grimace, really. “Oh, Thariin,” he said with a mirthless laugh. “Trying to beat Aquila at his own game will only get you killed.” There was a note of desperation in his voice; maybe he did care about her after all. </p><p>“I don't need to beat him; just the other tributes, right?” she asked indignantly. </p><p>Janus sighed. “The tributes, and <em>only</em> the tributes. You cannot hurt the Capitol in a way that matters.”</p><p>Riin scowled. “I don’t care about the Capitol. I just want to survive.”</p><p>There was a heavy pause, in which Janus never took his eyes off her, trying to gauge her sincerity, her honesty. “You’re lucky,” he relented. “Aquila likes a smart tribute. Be interesting, but don’t be a threat. To him, at least.”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>“Good.” Janus changed the subject. “Tomorrow, we will begin preparations for your interview.” Riin opened her mouth to ask why they couldn’t start just then, but he continued, saying, “For now, you are going to familiarize yourself with the past eighteen years of Hunger Games.”</p><p>Riin understood. Aquila had his time to judge her; now she needed to learn how he operated, learn his game, play by his rules. </p><p>She started with the program labeled ‘Sixth Quarter Quell: The 150th Hunger Games.’</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You might’ve noticed that I changed the rating for this... there’s a good reason for that, which will be evident once the Games start. I’ll add more tags for that as it comes up and put specific warnings at the beginnings of chapters that could have potentially triggering content ;—;  </p><p>I’ve also been organizing this in my folder and I realized that it needed some extra chapters, so it should end up being 24 and not 22 :’0</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Fool’s Pride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/Wt-HnOD7E5g">She’s a Gun</a> by The Greeting Committee</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>A knock on Riin’s door sounded early in the morning: Janus, here to prepare her for the interview tomorrow evening. He informed her that she’d have sessions with himself and Scilla, the former for her angle and the latter for general etiquette. Riin wanted to roll her eyes at that. </p><p>“Well,” Janus said. “How do you want to portray yourself?”</p><p>Riin paused, the cup of lavender tea halfway to her mouth. She’d assumed Janus was just going to tell her what to do. He knew what was best, after all. She told him as much.</p><p>The corner of Janus’s lip twitched upwards. “There’s no need to flatter me.” He folded his hands together patiently. “Besides, I’m not sure how much you’d listen, hm?”</p><p>That was unfair; it wasn’t her fault that Loki gave her an intimidating costume, or that Chase singled her out. Riin narrowed her eyes as she took a slow sip of her tea. “Fine. I’ve already got a target on my back. I want them to know I’m a contender.”</p><p>“Good,” Janus nodded. “Let’s go over some questions, shall we?”</p><p>They spent the next couple of hours going back and forth, the questions ranging from personal information, to her opinions on various Capitol luxuries, to her training score and prospects in the arena. Riin didn’t like answering the personal questions, but it was easy enough to make things up. With Janus, she felt comfortable with her persona - well, hopefully it wasn’t all a persona. </p><p>She did try out a couple of others, though, just in case; while she hadn’t quite grown into ‘sexy’, she surprised Janus with the false sincerity of her ‘innocent little girl’ act. “Hm. Maybe we could’ve done that angle after all,” he mused.</p><p>Riin wrinkled her nose at the idea. She could do ‘sassy’ and ‘determined’, both so overdone in Hunger Games interviews by this point. ‘Mysterious’ and ‘aloof’ and ‘excitable’. ‘Patriotic’. ‘Confident’ came fairly easily as well; Riin found that she quite liked that one. ‘Angry’ and ‘rebellious’ were too dangerous, and she didn’t have enough fire to take it seriously anyways. ‘Funny’ felt a little forced, but she could even do ‘self-deprecating’, which would obviously get her nowhere. </p><p>“I must say, I’m impressed,” Janus said when they finished going through the repertoire of personalities.</p><p>“Thank you,” Riin bowed her head graciously, allowing herself a satisfied grin. Maybe she should try it out a little more once she gets back home instead of quietly observing the others from the shadows. <em>Back home - get through the day first. </em></p><p>Janus proceeded to quiz her again, this time having her respond with the persona she would be using: mostly ‘confident’, ‘determined’, and maybe a touch of ‘innocent little girl’ if the opportunity arose, “to make you appear more likeable,” the Victor instructed. “Since you've made up your mind not to blend into the background, your interview needs to be just as interesting.”</p><p>Riin arched an eyebrow, but nodded. </p><p>They broke for lunch, and then Riin was stuck with Scilla for the rest of the day, the metallic-skinned woman showing her how to sit nicely, and smile politely, and - most importantly - balance on the high heels that she needed so badly. Scilla seemed as bored as Riin going through the motions of etiquette. It was important, of course, but there really wasn’t much that Riin didn’t know already. She was snapped at for biting her lip, which she quickly amended. The Capitolite also instructed her to smile smaller, whatever that meant. “You look like a creepy kid from a horror flick,” Scilla said, scrunching her lip.</p><p>“But you just told me to smile with my teeth,” Riin protested.</p><p>“Well, don’t anymore. Unless you want the audience to think you’re a creepy kid from a horror flick,” she said, with no small amount of snark. </p><p>Riin took note of that; maybe it would be helpful. </p><p>Walking in needle-thin heels was a bit of an adjustment for Riin. The last time she’d worn a pair was during the parade, and those had been much sturdier; she did find it helpful that the ground wasn’t moving beneath her feet, though. With Scilla’s help, it wasn’t long before Riin felt comfortable enough to do cartwheels in the precarious footwear. Landing lightly on her toes, Riin stretched out her arms gracefully, earning a clap of approval from Scilla. </p><p>They still had plenty of time before they were supposed to regroup for dinner, so Scilla suggested putting on some old Hunger Games reruns, to “get into the spirit.”</p><p>Riin could use some more studies herself. “Ooh, let’s put on One-Fifty,” she said, kicking off the heels to curl up on the couch. She’d already seen it yesterday, but another watch-through couldn’t hurt. </p><p>“Good choice, that one’s my favorite,” Scilla said, ordering them snacks and a drink for herself. “Quarter Quell; that’s the one where the tributes were all twelve.” That was the only time a twelve-year-old had ever won the Hunger Games.</p><p>Janus, Barnabas, and Taylor reappeared just as tiny little Jezephel Xoreen from District Eleven was crowned as Victor, running a spear through her opponent’s stomach. Taylor’s eyes widened as he saw what they were watching, but he said nothing. The rest of Aquila’s Games played in a constant stream as they ate dinner, Riin’s eyes glued to the screen. She took particular note of the traps and muttations he liked to use, the variations in arenas; even by Capitol standards, they certainly weren’t boring. <em>That’s probably why he still has his job,</em> Riin mused. Taylor disappeared to his room shortly after their meal, warded off by the horror of the Games, of what he’d be facing in two day’s time. </p><p>Riin watched until Janus forcibly switched off the screen, sending her off to bed with a stern glance. </p><p>After a short breakfast the next day, Riin was bustled off into the hands of her prep team, who spent the morning - the <em>whole</em> morning - dolling her up for tonight’s interview. She briefly wondered if they would go with the same grey face paint that had covered her face during the parade, but she didn’t catch any hints of unnatural skin tones on Dua’s brushes. </p><p>Walter didn’t come near her with his scissors again, for which Riin was grateful. Instead, he tied up her hair high on top of her head, leaving it flowing in a tail down her back. He wrapped a strand of indigo ribbon around the tie, securing it with one of those red gemstone pins she’d worn during the parade. Felix hovered around her sides, painting her fingernails each a deep blood-red color. She flinched when he started painting her toenails as well; he hadn’t bothered to do so for the parade.  </p><p>They briefly broke for lunch, where Janus arrived to bring Riin a cup of lavender tea in a kind gesture. Riin was careful not to smudge her makeup while she ate. </p><p>As soon as they finished, Dua was upon Riin’s face again. Loki appeared with the dress bag just as Dua applied the finishing touches to her face. Thankfully, this one didn’t look as unwieldy as the Widow costume. The stylist unzipped it with a flourish, and Riin caught a flash of indigo before it was snatched out of her view and carefully unfastened for Riin to step into. She felt the fabric cling to her, around her waist, down her arms, and all the way up her neck as they bound her to the dress. </p><p>“This one is even better than the last, if I do say so myself,” Loki preened.</p><p>Riin didn’t deign him with a response. There was no lace this time; the textile felt smooth and silk-satiny, the deep indigo color paying homage to her district. Even more than that; nestled in her sternum was the shimmering black body of an arachnid, its eight legs spreading out to wrap themselves around her shoulders, torso, waist. Riin took in the sharpness of the dress and her features (thanks to Dua) contrasting with the curve of her hips - wait. That couldn’t be right. But as Riin’s hands traced the length of the dress, she noticed the padding on her hips and her chest, a lump rising in her stomach. They slipped a pair of spindly heels onto her feet; the bottom of the dress had bunched together at the floor, but now it filled out to the adjusted height. </p><p>Combined with the heavy purple-black eyeshadow and deep red lips, Riin did not look fourteen years old. </p><p>“Lovely,” Walter sighed. “The whole Capitol won’t be able to take their eyes off of you!”</p><p>The lump made its way into her throat, as if the legs of the spider constricted around her body, pushing it higher. </p><p>Janus appeared at her side, and Riin felt a flash of relief. His eyes widened with shock, then glinted with deadly anger. “What the <em>hell</em>, Loki,” he growled. </p><p>Loki flinched at the Victor’s unexpected ire. “I-I’m sorry?”</p><p>“She is a <em>child</em>,” Janus spat, grabbing the stylist by his lapels and practically dragging him out of earshot. Riin’s first instinct was to insist that she was <em>not</em>, in fact, a child, but her gut told her to remain silent. The prep team exchanged nervous glances. </p><p>Riin couldn’t hear their discussion, but Janus and Loki returned a minute later, the latter looking chastised while the former disappeared out of Riin’s vision. Loki waved a hand hurriedly, and the prep team sprung into action, replacing her dress with a thin robe and handing it to her stylist, who followed Janus out of sight. Riin waited silently, wondering what was going on. Minutes later, Loki reappeared with the dress in tow, and the prep team helped her into it again. </p><p>The garment felt lighter this time; the accentuating padding had disappeared. </p><p>Janus had returned as well; meeting his eyes, Riin offered him a quiet “Thank you.” He gave a terse nod in response. </p><p>Turning back to the mirror, Riin reanalyzed the outfit. The effect of the ensemble was similar; she still gave off the air of a dangerous competitor. Without the padding she definitely felt more comfortable, but the dress, she noticed, didn’t quite fit anymore. </p><p>She frowned, pulling at the unsightly folds of silk-satin at her waist. Dua appeared with a handful of safety pins, reaching towards the fabric on Riin’s hip to help with the problem. </p><p>“Don’t touch me,” Riin hissed, slapping the woman’s hand away; Dua recoiled as if burned. “I’ll do it myself.” </p><p>She snatched the pins out of Dua’s pearly hands, expertly placing them underneath the garment and folding the indigo cloth in line with the seam of the dress to hide the last-minute alterations. Thankfully, the fabric of the dress was thick enough not to reveal the pins hiding underneath.</p><p>Finally, she looked presentable. The second iteration of the dress still flowed with her angle, thankfully without rivaling the usual District One approach. </p><p>Masking any stray emotions under a veneer of stoicness, Riin gave her entourage an approving nod, and Janus directed her towards where Taylor and the rest of the tributes were seated by district behind the curtains of the interview stage. Everyone else was there; the stint with her dress had made Riin late. Fortunately, most of them didn’t pay attention to her entry, too busy conversing amongst their alliances or glancing nervously at the red curtain. Riin took her place between the District Seven boy and Taylor, who was dressed in a matching indigo suit accented with black lining. He greeted her with a friendly smile as she arrived, and she grimaced in response. </p><p>“Rough patch with the stylist?” he guessed.</p><p>“You’ve got no idea,” Riin ground out. </p><p>He shook his head in sympathy. “Yeah, yours has a weird look to him.”</p><p>Riin opened her mouth to heartily agree when several lights flashed simultaneously, accompanied by an upbeat rendition of the national anthem - the show was starting. The voice of Marcus Argentus, the official Hunger Games host, boomed from behind the curtain as he made his appearance. </p><p>“Citizens of Panem, your tributes!”</p><p>The curtains <em>wooshed</em> open, and Riin was blinded by the glare of the stage lights, deafened by the roar of the audience as they clapped and cheered and stomped for their annual sacrificial offerings. She didn’t smile at them, instead staring into their glittering midst, and slowly the masses resolved into faces. A fancy feathered hat here, a hint of purple skin there. A row of stylists sat in the front; Loki pointedly avoided meeting her eyes. </p><p>Marcus introduced the District One girl, Nova, whose attire was so sheer and shimmering that Riin almost felt foolish for worrying about her own. Nova sure had the nation’s attention, and probably the wrong kind. </p><p>However she wasn’t phased by this in the slightest, chatting with ease as Marcus complimented her outfit - and her training score. </p><p>Riin turned her attention back to the audience, and she managed to pick out Scilla in the crowd. Not too difficult a feat, as the lights glinted blindingly off her skin. A couple rows behind her were Janus and Barnabas, seated with what Riin recognized as a crowd of previous Victors. She wondered if they sat together on purpose, or if the Capitol hadn’t wanted them intermingling with their citizens. </p><p>The District Two stylists had shoved Blade into a blood-red suit which looked tight enough to burst at the seams if he moved wrong. Sure enough, when he flexed his muscles for the crowd, it did just that, sending the audience into a frenzy. Riin wanted to roll her eyes, but inwardly she acknowledged the cleverness of his stylist. The display encouraged Marcus to dub him “The Crimson Blade”, to which Riin actually did roll her eyes. </p><p>Next was District Three; the female tribute’s interview was painfully forgettable, with her spending most of it trying to excuse her ‘poor’ training score. She seemed far too nervous, which she should be, if even Riin could score higher than her. She was dismissed from the stage without much commotion.</p><p>Then there was Chase, waltzing onstage confidently and seating himself in the chair adjacent to Marcus. His stylist had decked him out in a dark blue tailored suit accented with turquoise piping, bringing out the light smattering of freckles on his tanned cheekbones. Riin didn’t miss the dangerous gleam in his amber eyes, and neither did the cameras. Even his smile was a threat, sharp and predatory. The crowd loved it. </p><p>“So, Chase, how does it feel to have the best training score of the year?” Marcus asked, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned in eagerly towards the tribute. </p><p>
  <em>Way to stroke his ego.</em>
</p><p>“It’s a good feeling, Marcus, knowing that I went in there with my best.” He paused for effect, flashing a winning smile. “One might even say it feels like a Victory.”</p><p>The audience howled with applause, and Riin gritted her teeth. </p><p>Briefly, she glanced up at the crowd again, and to her surprise, she caught the stern features of the Head Gamemaker himself. She was pleased to find that he wasn’t hollering along with his peers, though his gaze was locked on Chase. <em>Still studying us. </em></p><p>Aquila kept Riin’s attention for a while; she completely missed her allies from Five taking their turn. <em>Oh well.</em></p><p>Briar from Six cussed her whole way through the interview. Riin had to admire the creativity of her language, but she doubted the girl got any air time at all. </p><p>Riin straightened her back, pretending to watch the other interviews, but giving more focus to the reactions of the audience. The crocodile tears from the boy from Seven got many of the Capitolites to whip out handkerchiefs to hide their bleeding makeup. He played a good hand, bringing up the multitude of younger siblings he’d left back home. Riin didn’t think she’d be able to generate the same reaction talking about Iden. </p><p>Luckily, playing pathetic wasn’t her act. Riin smoothed her hands over the deep indigo fabric of her dress, standing slowly as her name was called. She didn’t offer a smile to the cheering crowd, keeping her expression as still as a marble statue and placed herself in the seat across from Marcus, ignoring any latent feelings of nervousness. She didn’t let herself relax into the soft plush of the chair, giving Marcus an expectant glance to start the interview. </p><p>“Thariin Kres of District Eight, welcome to the Capitol!” Marcus announced, flashing a toothy, welcoming smile.</p><p>Riin acknowledged him with a polite nod. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Now, Riin - may I call you Riin?”</p><p>Riin had to consciously stop her nose from wrinkling. “No.” The bluntness of her response drew a handful of chuckles from the audience, which made Riin want to scowl even more.</p><p>Marcus seemed caught off guard for a brief second. “Oh, come on, darling, I thought we were friends!”</p><p>“I’m not here to make friends.”</p><p>That got a reaction from the crowd. An attitude like that was expected more from a Career, not a scrap of a girl like herself. Marcus grinned widely at her bold statement. “Eager for the competition to start, are we? Not nervous at all?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t tell you if I was,” Riin quipped. </p><p>Marcus let out a peal of fake laughter, echoed by the audience. “Wonderful!” Riin didn’t react, maintaining her neutral expression. “Now, tell me about your lovely dress; absolutely stunning. I’m sensing a theme, here. Is that real indigo?”</p><p>Riin scoffed. “Please; this <em>is</em> the Capitol, isn’t it?” </p><p>More tittering from the crowd, and Marcus looked somewhat abashed. “Of course, darling, forgive me; I had to ask… Now, about your family, I understand your mother is a Peacekeeper.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“How brave, how brave, she must be very proud of you.” Riin nodded to keep herself from rolling her eyes. “Do you think your… upbringing will give you an advantage in the coming days?”</p><p>Riin narrowed her eyes. Was he seriously suggesting that her mother had trained her for the Games? Oh, if only that were true. “I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re saying,” Riin said, a touch of innocent curiosity in her tone.</p><p>“Oh, come now, we all saw your training score! You must tell us how you managed that!”</p><p><em>As if.</em> Riin fixed her features into a pout. “You <em>know</em> I can’t tell,” she said with faux reluctance. “Although, if dear Mr. Aquila does his job right, you’ll find out in due time.” </p><p>There. Directly challenging the Head Gamemaker… Janus was going to kill her for that - if Aquila didn’t first. Riin found Aquila in the audience again and gave him a wide, toothy smile. Let Scilla chew on that. </p><p>Marcus let out a surprised laugh. “Wonderful! I hadn’t realized you knew our Head Gamemaker so well!”</p><p>Hopefully she did as much as Marcus thought. Riin flashed a confident grin. “I’m sure we’ll become even better friends after the Games.” Who knows, maybe they actually would. Riin would love to get a piece of the Gamemaker’s mind, see how he ticked. </p><p>The Capitolites roared at that, perhaps even louder than they had for Chase. <em>Good.</em></p><p>“Miss Kres, everybody!” Marcus crowed. And that was it. Riin’s three minutes were up, and she stood tall in front of the crowd, giving them a terse nod of acknowledgement. She strode confidently back to her seat, her chin up and shoulders back, hoping that she’d appeared as confident as she intended. </p><p>Back at her seat, Riin watched Taylor fidget nervously as he made his way towards the host. He did alright in his interview, though. The crowd loved his optimism, and his habit of smiling through his nerves working out in his favor. It wasn’t near Riin’s level of unfounded confidence, but he seemed to feel better upon returning to his seat next to Riin. </p><p>Echelle and Melis did fairly well, too, playing up their preparedness from their unusually high training scores. </p><p>Riin tried to pay attention to the rest, but her thoughts got lost in the crowd as she scanned for Janus again, then Loki, then back to Aquila. The latter looked bored, but dutifully watched the interviews unfolding with unblinking eyes.</p><p>It wasn’t until Oriel’s interview, and the mention of the word ‘alliance’ that Riin’s focus snapped back to the stage. </p><p>The kid was beaming at the host, his mouth moving excitedly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Argentus, the others don’t stand a chance against our alliance!”</p><p>Riin’s eyes widened, and a sinking feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach. </p><p>“Oh?” Marcus exclaimed curiously. “Would you care to give us just a little hint on that?”</p><p>
  <em>No, shut up, Oriel-</em>
</p><p>“Yeah! We’ve got me, and Melis and Echelle from Nine, and Thariin and Karl from Eight, and Nedda and Teffrey from Five,” he counted them off on his fingers. </p><p>
  <em>Shut up shut up shut up-</em>
</p><p>For a second Riin thought she was wearing her eye lenses from the parade again; she’d never seen red this intently. Every muscle in her body wanted to leap onstage and strangle the kid right then and there. Taylor must’ve sensed it because she felt his hand on her shoulder. Riin saw her horror reflected on Taylor’s face as he watched Oriel spill their game plan. The sentiment was imminent in the wide eyes of her allies; looking too far down the line, she glimpsed the Careers’ expressions of cruel mirth. </p><p>“Wow, that’s incredible!” The host clearly hadn’t expected that much information. </p><p>It had to be part of his plan. There was no way that idiot genuinely thought revealing that much was a good idea. But Oriel’s demeanor held no suggestion of trickery, only childish hopefulness, as he listed the benefits of their alliance. </p><p>“And this idea was yours, I assume? To team up?” Marcus asked graciously. </p><p>“Oh, no!” Oriel smiled brightly. “It was Thariin’s, from District Eight. She really brought us all together!”</p><p>Oh, Riin couldn’t wait to get to the arena. She was going to skin him alive. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hoo boy... next chapter will be the start of the Games. Wonder what kind of consequences this could have for Riin.. </p><p>Again, once things start heating up, I’ll keep track of who’s still alive in the notes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Beginning of the End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/Ld9C5y5cag4">The Beginning of the End</a> by Nine Inch Nails</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin barely remembered the rest of the interviews; she was too busy seething from Oriel’s stupidity. Janus cornered her back in their room, and she didn’t need to see the look on his face to be worried.</p><p>Closing the door to Riin’s private quarters, he spoke in a low voice. “You need to stay away from the Cornucopia, they will be targeting you.” </p><p>“I know,” Riin said through gritted teeth.</p><p>“It won’t matter what you try to do, your alliance is ruined. Get away from them as soon as you can.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Janus continued as if she hadn’t spoken, pacing across the carpet. “The Careers already knew about it because of training, but it could’ve still worked if it weren’t for that idiot Eleven kid-“</p><p>
  <em>“I know!”</em>
</p><p>The Victor looked at her with surprise. Riin’s chest was heaving as she struggled to contain her temper, her panic. She didn’t need Janus rambling about her odds to know just how fucked she was. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes, and it took everything Riin had to keep them in. She did not want to die. If she knew nothing else, she knew that.</p><p>Janus stopped in front of Riin, realizing his mistake; it was obvious by his face. “I am sorry,” he said. That was the most sincerity she’d ever heard in his voice. Riin sucked in a breath, looking him in the eye. No pity, just an apology. “It’s alright for you to cry, Thariin,” he said gently. </p><p>Riin shook her head. She would not. Another deep breath calmed her shaking nerves a bit, though it could not hide the truth, could not change her future. Janus led her out of her quarters and sat her on one of the lounge chairs in the sitting room; he vanished out of sight, reappearing a minute later with a steaming cup of tea. Lavender. She accepted it gratefully. </p><p>It wasn’t difficult to see that Janus struggled with comforting people. She appreciated his efforts anyways; she didn’t think she’d be able to stand anything like how her parents or her brother went about it. </p><p>Janus cleared his throat awkwardly. “I have faith in you, Thariin.” </p><p>Funny, he never struck her as a hopeful believer. She flicked him a skeptical glance, but said nothing, only taking a sip of her tea. </p><p>“When the time comes for you to do what must be done, I have every faith that you will be able to do so.”</p><p>He meant killing people. Allies or enemies. Janus believed that she could do it, that she would. He was right - he had to be. Riin nodded. </p><p>Janus offered her a smile, a genuine one. “Day by day. If it gets too overwhelming, take it day by day. When you have time to sit back and plan - and you will, trust me - then you outsmart them. You can do that, easily.”</p><p>He was humoring her. But Riin didn’t mind; she would do her damndest either way. “Okay,” she responded, her voice quiet but even. She was not in danger of crying anymore. </p><p>They sat in silence for a while. Thankfully, neither Barnabas, Scilla, or the stylists had invaded their conversation. Taylor had disappeared to his rooms after the interviews and Riin hadn’t seen him since then. Belatedly, Riin realized she should probably watch the interview recaps, but she didn’t want to spend her last night before the arena listening to the other tributes go on about their families or weapons skills. Watching them once was enough. </p><p>To her surprise, Janus had another idea. “Thariin, would you like to watch my Hunger Games?” he asked after a couple minutes of silence. </p><p>Janus’s Games had been the 140th; he’d won at seventeen years old. Riin had seen plenty of highlights from his time in the arena, but now that she thought about it, she realized that she’d never actually sat through the whole thing. </p><p>Riin gave it another thought. “How about I’ll watch yours after you watch mine?” It would be nice to have something to look forward to, nevermind the unlikelihood.</p><p>That got a chuckle out of him. “I like that idea, Thariin.” He sent her to bed after that, stating that she’d need a good night’s sleep for tomorrow, however impossible that seemed. </p><p>Surrounded by a fortress of fluffy, plush pillows, Riin laid in her fancy Capitol bed for the last time, staring at the ceiling. </p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to die.</em>
</p><p>Periodically, the fear engulfed her, filling her head with images of possibilities. Being dragged into the Bloodbath, surrounded by Careers. Chase’s dangerous smile that could only bring death. Mira from Eleven, her eyes flashing as she drove a knife into Riin’s gut. Briar, the bald girl, ripping chunks of hair from Riin’s scalp like she’d done with her wig at the parade. Taylor, with the rest of her allies, weapons drawn. Eyes accusing her of betraying them right from the start. Even strange Victor from Thirteen, seemingly harmless, but taunting the rest with his name. </p><p>Every time, Riin batted them away with her mantra. </p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to die.</em>
</p><p>Strangely, it helped to calm her, focus her. Think about herself instead of the others. Because that was what mattered. </p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to die. So everyone else must. </em>
</p><p>____</p><p>Cosima had arrived at Iden’s flat with a different rose this time. Soft white petals splattered through with a shock of dark red. The flower appeared to be bleeding, horribly and irreparably. </p><p>“What the hell,” Iden had hissed upon opening the door. </p><p>Cosima clutched her bad omen defensively. “It’s supposed to symbolize unity,” she’d said, her delicate brows furrowed in concern.</p><p>Iden shook his head. All it seemed to do was mock his sister’s possible future. “Whatever,” he’d said, letting her inside with the horrid rose.</p><p>After the botched interview, however, Iden glared at the rose and the girl reproachfully. His sister had not been idle during her time at the Capitol, but he could tell by the faces of her ‘allies’, by the reactions of the audience, that her plans had been ruined. She’d made a poor choice in picking friends; nothing new, judging by his current company. Iden could only hope it wouldn’t result in her death tomorrow. <em>Unity, my ass.</em></p><p>Tomorrow. The beginning of the Hunger Games. He couldn’t imagine how terrified she must be. He was terrified, and he was only watching. </p><p>Iden raised his hands to cover his face, breathing a heavy sigh through his nose. In all his seventeen years of life, he’d never felt this emotionally drained. He had to help Riin somehow. Running his fingers through his hair to steady himself, he met Cosima’s gaze again, this time with less anger. She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. </p><p>There was only one way Iden knew of to help his sister, and even that had to wait until she reached the arena. “You’ve got money, don’t you?” he asked Cosima bluntly. </p><p>She blinked at him. “Yes,” she said cautiously, “but why-“</p><p>“She’ll need sponsors. In the arena.” Iden’s parents would’ve scolded him for asking, but they had gone to bed after the interviews, and frankly, he didn’t care. Sure, it was a nice gesture of support to come along with her flowers and watch with his family, but he didn’t trust her. Did she actually care about his sister’s survival, or did she just feel guilty about being a bitch to Riin now that she was slated to die?  </p><p>Cosima’s next words were tentative. “Won’t she have sponsors in the Capitol?” </p><p>Iden narrowed his eyes, fixing her with a hard stare. People were funny about money, but he wasn’t above guilting her into this if it meant saving Riin’s life. </p><p>He was testing her, and she knew it. “But I’ll talk to my parents about it, absolutely,” she said after a pause, offering him an artificially placating smile.</p><p>“Good. Thank you,” he said. The smile he gave in return was just as sincere. </p><p>Cosima stood from her seat, brushing out her skirt and pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s getting late, though, and I should probably head home.”</p><p>“Of course,” Iden said. He walked her to the door like a gentleman, waiting while she called a cab, and returned to the living room after she left. </p><p>Resigning himself to a sleepless night, Iden curled up on the worn armchair in front of the television screen, brooding over Cosima’s bloody rose while he waited for the Hunger Games to begin.</p><p>____</p><p>The sun hadn’t even breached the skyline when they came for her. A sharp rap on the door startled Riin out of her hazy morning thoughts; she was surprised she’d managed to sleep at all.</p><p>‘They’ included Loki, of all people, and a pair of armed Peacekeepers. No Janus, no Taylor. Where were they?</p><p>“Come with me, my dear.” Loki guided her out of her room towards the door of the flat, where she was momentarily surprised to see Janus, standing guard like a steadfast protector. Riin breathed a sigh of relief at his presence. He couldn't protect her where she was going, though. </p><p>“Wait,” Riin said, making to turn around but was stunted by the Peacekeepers. “I can’t wear my nightclothes into the arena!” </p><p>Loki waved a hand dismissively. “Your clothes will be waiting at the Launch Room.”</p><p>Riin glanced at Janus. His face was smooth and expressionless as carved marble; she was sure he saw the fear in her eyes. The Victor placed a firm hand on her shoulder, using his other to grasp hers in a cordial handshake. “Go, show them what you can do,” he said, the hint of a smile in his mouth. </p><p>Between her palm and Janus’s, she felt the soft lump of a rolled-up piece of fabric. What was he giving her? Riin didn’t react except to give him a determined nod, stealthily palming the object in her hand. </p><p>At the insistence of the Peacekeepers, Riin and Loki exited the flat, Janus saluting them on their way out. Riin was led up to the roof, and she briefly wondered where Taylor had been taken. It would’ve been nice to say goodbye.</p><p>“Everyone arrives in different hovercrafts,” Loki explained when she asked out loud. </p><p>Looking up, Riin saw her own personal hovercraft, floating above the roof like an angel of death. Loki was winched up first, and then it was her turn. She hesitated, glancing backwards nervously at the Peacekeepers behind her. No choice. Gripping onto the metal rung, Riin felt a current of electricity freeze her in place; she couldn't move. </p><p>Her gut instinct was to escape, to run. She let out a gasp of alarm as she was lifted into the hovercraft’s belly, realizing belatedly that it was probably better that she couldn’t move, otherwise she would’ve fallen off. But she had only panicked in the first place because she <em>couldn’t move.</em></p><p>Once inside the hovercraft, a woman in sterilized gear approached her with a long needle, and Riin felt the panic rising higher. She <em>still couldn’t move,</em> and her eyes widened as the needle came closer. “No, no, what is that; don’t come near me with that thing!” Her voice still worked, at least.</p><p>“Calm down, this is just your tracker,” the woman said in a gentle tone, placing the needle against the skin on her left arm.</p><p>Riin was still frozen in place by the current, but every inch of her strained to headbutt this stupid woman and her evil metal syringe. She let out a hiss of pain as the point of the needle pinched her skin. Then, the weird bloating sensation of liquid being injected into her flesh. Riin bared her teeth in a grimace. “What the <em>hell</em> did you just put in my arm?” </p><p>The woman stepped away smartly before the current released Riin from its grip. “The tracker is just so we can monitor your vitals and keep track of where you are, so your sponsor gifts can find you,” she explained in a highly patronizing tone.</p><p><em>Yeah, bullshit,</em> Riin thought. <em>You just need to know who to send the mutts after.</em> Riin glared at the woman, but remained in place, rubbing her arm, careful to keep the gift from Janus hidden. Of course she had to be tracked. What did she expect? That didn’t mean she had to like it, though.</p><p>Loki caught her attention by ordering a tray of food over for breakfast. Reluctantly, Riin moved to join him. She helped herself to cubed fruits, warm cereal, and a glass of fresh orange juice. Her last Capitol meal before entering the arena. She shivered. </p><p>“Well,” Loki started awkwardly. “They didn’t tell me how long the flight would be, so I suppose we can enjoy the view for now.”</p><p>He was right; it was breathtaking. She’d never seen snow-capped mountains from above, or anything from this high up. It would’ve felt like nothing on the ground could touch her, if it weren’t for the impending death pageant. Riin spent the rest of her breakfast staring out of the window and not talking to Loki, ignoring his attempts at conversation. Sooner than she would’ve liked, the windows turned opaque, and that could only mean one thing. They were here.</p><p>A pang of fear roiled through Riin’s stomach, and she almost regretted eating breakfast. She steeled herself quickly, masking her face into a replica of Janus’s famous carved-marble expression. </p><p>She and Loki were lowered into the cold metal walls of the Launch Room - or, more accurately, the Stockyards - where she’d wait underneath the arena for her turn to die. <em>No, stop.</em> She cut off that train of thought. </p><p>Loki instructed her to shower in one of the provided rooms, and when she returned, her outfit had arrived in a sealed package. The stylist opened it carefully, handing her each piece of clothing. A small athletic underwear set, worn underneath a simple black long-sleeved t-shirt. The fabric was fairly stretchy, made for movement and activity. A pair of tan cargo pants, loose enough to move with agility and thick enough to keep warm if necessary. Bulky socks and heavy-soled hiking boots that laced up to her ankle, the rubber grips good for running away from attackers. Her hands shook too badly to tie up the boots herself, and Loki had to do it for her. How humiliating.</p><p>Lastly, a thin green jacket, hooded, made of reflective material. Riin frowned at it. The inside was lined with nylon, good for retaining body heat. The stylist pointed at her jacket lining. “You might get some cold hours, this fabric is designed to keep you warm.” <em>Thanks, Loki.</em></p><p>Riin didn’t respond, instead taking a sip of water from a glass provided by a silent Avox. </p><p>“I think that is all, unless you have a district token,” Loki informed her. </p><p><em>A token!</em> Riin was about to say that she had forgotten one, when she remembered her mentor’s gift. She unfurled her trembling hand, and there, rolled up neatly, sat her sash. Unwrapping it, Riin noticed that the indigo fabric had been cut in half lengthwise; it was now only about an inch thick. The cost of de-weaponizing it, she supposed. </p><p>“Are you allowed to have that?” Loki asked uncertainly. </p><p>“I wouldn’t have it if I weren’t,” Riin snapped, clenching her free hand into a fist to calm the shaking. She got the sense that it had barely passed inspection. </p><p>Loki didn’t argue with her. “Fair enough,” he said. “Where do you want it?”</p><p>There weren’t many places she could wear it. “My hair.”</p><p>With Loki’s help, she tied her long hair up in a high ponytail, securing it with an elastic band before wrapping the ribbon tightly around it. Loki tucked in the edges so they didn’t trail behind her, as if he understood that she probably wasn’t supposed to wear the ribbon as a token. Well, she’d only use it if necessary.</p><p>They’d just finished doing up her hair when a voice over the intercom stated that it was time to launch. The nerves were back, eating at the insides of Riin’s stomach as she stepped up to the metal place that would send her into the arena. She forced them down, leaving the feeling to simmer in the back of her mind. The tremor in her hands eased at the pretense of calm, her fingers slowly uncurling. </p><p>“Good luck, my dear Widow,” Loki said with what was probably a well-meaning smile. Riin wasn’t reassured, but she’d take it anyways.</p><p>Around her, a glass tube lowered, separating her from the stylist. The plate underneath Riin’s feet began to rise; there was no turning back now, no escape. </p><p>Either win or die. </p><p>She did her best to stand tall, despite her increased breathing, and was nearly blinded by the daylight - real daylight? - from the arena. <em>Calm yourself. Day by day.</em> Blinking a couple times to reorient herself, Riin took in her surroundings. </p><p>Sixty seconds on the clock now; no wait, fifty-five. She’d wasted precious time by blinking. </p><p>The cold metal hull of the Cornucopia lay several feet in front of her, spilling its bounty of food and weapons across a lush green field speckled with sunny-colored wildflowers. </p><p>
  <em>Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three —</em>
</p><p>Directly to her right stood Teffrey, from Five. They exchanged furtive glances, and Riin gave him a curt nod. Her ally still? She’d find out in —</p><p><em>Thirty-seven, thirty-six, thirty-five —</em> </p><p><em>Don’t flinch, don’t step off the plate!</em> On her left, the girl from Two. <em>Shit, she’s looking at me now!</em> Riin accidentally made eye contact with the Career; a mistake. The girl flashed a bloodthirsty smile. No time for nerves. No time.</p><p>
  <em>Twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three —</em>
</p><p>About ten yards in front of her, a green backpack sat innocently in the grass next to a patch of the bright yellow flowers, tempting her with its life-saving contents. Maybe she was fast enough to grab it before Two got to her. </p><p>
  <em>Fourteen, thirteen, twelve —</em>
</p><p>She spotted Taylor all the way across the Cornucopia, conveniently placed between two Careers; bad luck for him. Behind them, a sparkling lake glistened in the sunlight, the stream feeding it winding wide around the Cornucopia and vanishing briefly behind a thin copse of trees before reappearing.</p><p>
  <em>Nine, eight, seven —</em>
</p><p>Almost out of time; Riin glanced hurriedly behind her, finding a concealing cover of leafy green trees, out of which spat the flowing creek. The land sloped upward, not tall enough for a mountain, but enough to be a hike. Safety, and water. Her eyes flicked back to the backpack. </p><p>
  <em>Six, five, four —</em>
</p><p>Supplies, or safety.</p><p>
  <em>Three, two, one —</em>
</p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, let the One Hundred and Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games begin!” A gong resonated throughout the entire arena.</p><p>She ran. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><em>We think we climb so high<br/>Up all the backs we've condemned<br/>We face our consequence<br/>This is the beginning of the end</em><br/>____<br/>(Lyrics from The Beginning of the End by Nine Inch Nails)</p><p>Yes, Riin is irrationally afraid of needles jfjfj</p><p>Me: “Iden is the sweetest, most kindest person in Riin’s family”<br/>Iden: guilt trips Cosima into sponsoring Riin</p><p>... it still stands. Kid’s got some rose-colored glasses when it comes to his sister, rip. </p><p>Anyways, I hope you guys are ready for the actual Games! It’s only going to get Worse from here (:</p><p>I’m also excited bc I finished compiling all of the songs for the future chapters and everything. I’ve put them on a Spotify playlist, but I won’t share that until the last chapter bc some of the songs are a bit too telling for the story events.. no spoilers lol</p><p>((Also a side note; I hadn’t really planned on writing any more of this au once I’ve finished Riin’s story. I have a Lot in my head with this, but my writing stamina? Horrible. It’s almost a miracle that I’ve written this much. BUT. Yesterday I just had the most batshit-crazy idea for another Hunger Games story and I might just be hype enough to actually write it down jfjf I’ll check back with you in like 3 years jfjf))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Consequences and Reactions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/2ORwtoQo5rA">Little Deaths</a> by IAMX</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin crushed a clump of yellow flowers under her boot as she sprinted towards the forest, away from the screams already emanating from the Cornucopia. She couldn’t tell if anyone was following her; didn’t stop to look. By now, that backpack would’ve been swiped by some lucky tribute, or one of the Careers. It sounded like they were busy enough with their bloodbath as is. </p><p>Leaping over a mossy log, Riin finally sprang into the cover of the trees and bushes. She slowed to a stop, crouching down behind a clump of ferns to observe the massacre before her. </p><p>From this distance, it was difficult to tell who was who; she saw silhouettes swinging weapons, tributes stumbling under a blade in the chest, an arrow in the skull. It took her a second to realize a figure was running towards her, another to recognize the shape as Taylor, and a heartbeat later for him to trip and fall face-first in the grass, an arrow shaft protruding from his back. Riin flinched at the sight. The arrow had flown from the girl from Two’s bow, or Chase’s from Three; she couldn’t tell. Riin snarled at the Career from her distant hiding spot. Taylor has done just as she’d intended. If he hadn’t been killed then, Riin wouldn’t have done it eventually, but she found it was different watching someone else do it. </p><p>One ally down already; where were the others? </p><p>It didn’t matter. She decided it was a good time to keep moving, away from the Cornucopia especially. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen any of her other allies make their way into the forest. Had they all perished in the Bloodbath? That seemed unlikely, unless the Careers were targeting them on purpose. Riin wouldn’t put that past Chase. <em>Don’t think about them; that plan is over.</em> The thought didn’t help assuage the gnawing feeling in her stomach.</p><p>Riin scowled. For now, at least, she was on her own. </p><p>Spotting the creek from before between the trees, Riin followed its path, keeping her direction perpendicular to the ongoing Bloodbath. She hesitated to walk along the riverbank; certainly other tributes must’ve spotted the water source as well. Staying keen on her surroundings, Riin picked up her pace to a steady jog, which became increasingly difficult as the ground sloped upwards. Her footsteps were far too loud for her liking, but the distance was crucial. She wouldn’t stand a chance if she got caught by a Career hunting party in her current state. </p><p>She spied more of those yellow blossoms from the Cornucopia field as she went; they looked unfamiliar, though she would have to investigate more later. Since she had ignored the backpack, Riin had nothing but the clothes on her back. That meant no food, no means of shelter, no weapons, or anything else the pack might’ve offered. For the moment, she was still sated from breakfast, but that would change quickly. She resolved to keep an eye out for any of the edible plants she had memorized during training. </p><p>Thankfully, she identified plenty; she paused to gather a handful of bright red strawberries and double-checked before stuffing them in her pocket, smiling slightly as she remembered her private session with the Gamemakers. A patch of golden dandelions poked their heads from beneath a fern; she plucked them as well, and a bounty of chickweed blooms growing next to them. She passed over another patch of the strange yellow flowers, not daring to even consider the unfamiliar plant. A couple feet away she spotted a clump of Queen Anne’s Lace; she reached for those as well, though after a close examination she recognized the plant as a poisonous hemlock. Handling it with more caution, Riin placed the hemlock in a different pocket, careful not to let the plant touch her skin. She felt a small amount of relief with a weapon in her hands, however subtle. Now, she only needed the right situation to use it. </p><p><em>Boom.</em> She jumped as the cannon shot rang out, followed soon after by another. The Bloodbath must be over. </p><p>Riin counted eleven shots. Fifteen tributes had survived the bloodbath, then. She’d find out who later tonight. </p><p>Keep moving, keep moving, away from the Cornucopia. Had the Careers sent out their hunting parties yet? She had no way of knowing.</p><p>With a small stockpile of food and a water source within earshot, Riin turned her attention to finding shelter for the night. Plenty of the surrounding bushes seemed large enough to cover her with their foliage, though she facetiously worried about beetles or ants crawling under her clothes while she slept. That was likely inevitable, best not to think about it. She hoped the arena wouldn’t get too cold later on; the clothes she wore warned her about the possibility of chilly nights. Without a match or flint, she didn’t know if she’d be able to start a fire and she wasn’t stupid enough to try either. A fire at this stage would practically invite the Career pack to her location. Hollowing out a hole underneath one of those bushy ferns could work for the night, she’d just have to deal with the cold-</p><p>A branch snapped and Riin’s head whipped towards the sound; near the river, color flashed between the trees. Another tribute. </p><p>She darted underneath the clump of ferns, holding her breath as she waited for them to appear. Nobody did, though the sounds of activity continued closer to the river. </p><p>Taking a risk, Riin crept silently from her hiding place, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tribute. She slid from tree to tree, bush to bush, until she spotted it: the auburn corkscrew curls of Oriel from Eleven. Her careless ‘ally’. Riin’s nose wrinkled at the memory of his damning interview.</p><p>Aside from herself, he was the only member of her unfortunate ‘Team Underdog’ alliance that she’d seen. She wondered if he’d still intend to team up if she showed herself. But she didn’t.</p><p>Oriel wore a pack on his shoulders, his back to her. He seemed to be alone; would the others catch up to him soon? As she watched, he sat down by the riverbank, unpacking the contents of his bag to take stock. He laid out a couple packets of dried fruit, jerky, and crackers, opening a pack to eat. Then what looked like a tiny bottle of purifying iodine next to an empty water bottle, which he filled with river water, placing a couple drops of iodine into the liquid. A bundle of gauze, a stitching needle, and a spool of thread. Lastly, he pulled out a vicious-looking knife, laying it next to the pack of dried fruit. </p><p>Riin stared covetously at the blade. Its silver surface was unmarred by bloodstains, as was Oriel. He had gotten lucky at the Cornucopia, it seemed. She doubted he’d willingly hand her the knife if they were to pair up, and despite her previous confidence in being able to beat him in a fight, she knew her chances were lower with a weapon in his possession. </p><p>Would he even make a good ally at this point? Clunking and stumbling along the riverbank like an idiot made him an easy target; he was lucky Riin had found him, instead of someone bigger and more prone to attack. Currently, the only points in Oriel’s favor were his possessions, and those could easily be looted from his corpse. Besides, Riin carried the weight of her newfound grudge against him from the interviews.</p><p>Riin decided to follow him, staying hidden in the brush. He hadn’t spotted her yet; she’d bide her time, waiting for a weakness she could exploit. </p><p>It would be easiest to kill him in his sleep, to pick the knife from his belt and quickly slit his throat. He probably wouldn’t even notice. But the hovercraft sent to retrieve his body would give away her position, forcing Riin to find her way through the darkness. No, that was suicide as much as lighting a fire. There might be an opportunity now: the knife was still lying next to the food where Oriel had set it out. His head faced the direction opposite Riin, and she crept silently towards him, the sound of her footsteps blending into the background din of the forest. </p><p>Briefly, she debated whether she should skin him alive like she’d promised to herself after that disaster of an interview. She glared at the back of his head, mulling it over. </p><p> Before Riin could make a move, Oriel scooped up his things - knife included - and dropped the food into his pack, securing the knife on his belt. <em>Dammit,</em> she cursed silently. Skinning him would have to wait. Besides, that might give him more time to fight back, and Riin couldn’t have that. She was rather inexperienced with killing as it was. </p><p>He was on the move again, following the river upstream and still in plain sight. Riin kept herself hidden behind the bushes and trees, stalking him from a distance. If someone else found him before she struck, she’d lose the supplies for good.</p><p>Riin wasn’t about to let that happen. She wasn’t keen on letting Oriel out of her sight either. </p><p>She stalked him as the sky darkened, quiet as a mouse but as focused as a predator, lurking silently within the shadows. Oriel stopped as soon as pinprick stars began to appear through glimpses in the trees above, deciding to make his camp for the night away from the plain view of the river. <em>The second good idea you’ve had all day,</em> Riin thought, the first being whatever had motivated him to grab the pack.</p><p>He managed to camouflage himself pretty decently, thinking along the same lines she had earlier and tucking himself under a large bush for the night. Unfortunately for Riin, he left no opening for her to swipe his knife while he slept. </p><p>Riin investigated the nearby area for herself as well, though she was unsure whether she’d be able to sleep a wink. She was starving too; she hadn’t eaten or drank anything since before she arrived in the arena. Confident that Oriel was settled for the night, Riin quietly headed back to the river, deftly picking her way down to the water’s edge. Unlike Oriel, she had no iodine with which to purify the water. It was too much of a risk, though, and despite her ever-growing thirst, Riin abstained from drinking, only washing off her face and scarfing down some berries before darting back into the trees. Locating Oriel’s campsite easily, Riin found herself a nice clump of bushes from which she could observe his comings and goings. Now, though, Oriel remained tucked under his own bush. She doubted he was asleep yet. </p><p>Riin caught a flash of light as the now-darkened sky lit up with the seal of Panem, the nation’s anthem emanating throughout the entire arena. </p><p>To Riin’s surprise, the first face that flashed on the dome of the arena was the girl from Three’s. A Career? So the pack was down to seven; Riin wondered if one of the other tributes had gotten lucky or if the other Careers had ganged up on her. What would it taken to turn the pack against her? Riin had a suspicion that her district partner was behind it; if any of the Careers had the gall and shrewdness to do so, it was Chase. Flashbacks to their uneasy interactions during training pegged this as more likely. Of course, that was assuming none of the other tributes had reached her first. </p><p>The next faces to appear in the sky were Nedda’s and Teffrey’s from Five; so much for her alliance. The boy from Six was next, and the girl from Seven. Then Taylor, his genial portrait smiling down from the heavens. Riin felt an odd mixture of relief and guilt. Neither Echelle nor Melis had made it past the Bloodbath either, nor those from Ten, and lastly, the boy from Twelve. </p><p>Her whole alliance, save from herself and Oriel, dead. Despite the warnings and threats she’d received from the Careers, the inevitability of their doom because of Oriel’s interview, she had not expected this. A weight began to settle in her bones. Suddenly, everything felt more threatening, more <em>real</em>. The fear… Riin pushed it down again.</p><p>Had all of them been dumb enough to enter the Bloodbath? Or had Two and Chase gotten them all with their arrows? They had gotten Taylor, and one other, Riin knew. She had seen the glares from training, remembered the way Chase had observantly tracked their budding alliance. Another calculated move on his part, taking them out before the non-Career alliance could even pose a threat. And of course, Oriel exposing everything on live television to the entire fucking nation. It would've been embarrassing if Riin’s life didn’t hang in the balance.</p><p><em>Focus</em>. Seven Careers and eight non-Careers left. Riin suspected the former would swing the playing field into their favor rather soon. </p><p>Who was left, aside from her, Oriel, and the Careers? There was the girl from Six, Briar Sannibel. The boy from Seven. Oriel’s counterpart, Mira Tempé. Riin wasn’t surprised that she’d survived the Bloodbath. The girl from Twelve had made it as well, and the odd pair from Thirteen. That was unexpected. Janus must’ve been right on his first assessment of them; they had something up their sleeve, despite their abysmal training scores. Victor Hadrian and Kella… Riin blanked on her last name. She’d keep an eye out for them, though. </p><p>For the moment, however, her attention focused again on Oriel. He shifted underneath his bush, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. So far, the warnings of cold nights fell short, for which Riin was grateful. A couple minutes later, she heard his soft snores echoing from the foliage. <em>Great</em>, she groaned internally. If no one else had found him yet, surely they would now. What an unfortunate habit; hopefully he wouldn’t keep Riin up either. </p><p>She didn’t know if she’d be able to sleep anyways, though she knew she should try. She worried that she’d wake and Oriel would be gone, or worse, that he and his knife would find <em>her</em>. </p><p>The thought kept Riin awake for a couple more hours; she busied herself by keeping watch on Oriel. Eventually, however, she fell into a short, uncomfortable slumber, feeling the effects of the day’s events pounding in her head. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D1F (Nova)<br/>2. D1M<br/>3. D2F<br/>4. D2M (Blade)<br/>5. D3M (Chase)<br/>6. D4F<br/>7. D4M<br/>8. D6F (Briar)<br/>9. D7M<br/>10. D8F (Riin)<br/>11. D11F (Mira)<br/>12. D11M (Oriel)<br/>13. D12F<br/>14. D13F (Kella)<br/>15. D13M (Victor)<br/>____</p><p>And there’s day one! Someone’s in a bit of a sticky situation, but at least she’s alive, right? For now at least... who knows what day two could bring</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Broken Promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/EKY_oTByxa8">Blackened Heart</a> by Combichrist</p><p>And here is where the content warnings begin to apply.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>The locations of his fifteen remaining tributes rotated intermittently through Killian Aquila’s large viewing screens in the Gamemaker’s room. This late - or early - in the day, he was one of the few left manning the controls, aside from a handful of unlucky interns. His peers had dispersed to the annual post-Bloodbath parties to congratulate themselves and take stock of the public’s reaction to the beginning of the Games. </p><p>Killian had no need for such frivolity himself; he was a busy man. </p><p>In their eyes, the arena this year was fairly standard, at least at first glance. Soon, however, each of his tributes would realize that this was not quite the case. At least, the ones who lived that long. </p><p>For now, they were able to entertain themselves (and the public) on their own. The death - execution, really - of the District Three female proved that well enough. </p><p>Killian smiled. All was well in the arena, and the excitement was just beginning. </p><p>A light beeping on his console drew him away from the screen where the three-person District Thirteen and Seven alliance slept peacefully. Someone was here to speak with him. One of the interns left to receive the guest; they reappeared a minute later, speaking into Killian’s ear in a low voice. </p><p>How interesting. </p><p>Reluctantly, Killian left the Gamemaker’s room, leaving the most experienced intern in charge; Victors weren’t allowed inside. </p><p>He met Janus Shyle in the hallway, beckoning for the younger man to follow him on a light stroll. “Mr. Aquila,” Janus greeted.</p><p>“A pleasure to see you, Mr. Shyle,” Killian responded. “I must ask, what brings you to me at this hour?” The question was a formality; it was not difficult to surmise what the Victor might be worried about. His only remaining tribute was in a precarious position, after all. </p><p>“You killed off their alliance,” Janus stated. There was no hint of accusation in his tone, just truth. </p><p>“Me?” Killian raised an eyebrow. “That was hardly my doing.”</p><p> The Victor’s voice was deadpan. “Really.” Janus was far too smart to believe that, Killian knew. But the Gamemaker wasn’t completely lying. He couldn’t exactly decide who his Career tributes would go after in the initial Bloodbath. </p><p>He could, however, heavily influence it. Placing both of his District Nine tributes between Careers had been an intentional move on his part; he couldn’t have tributes illegally training for the Games, at least not without the Capitol’s discreet permission. He’d have to have a personal conversation with Sascha Teng about that, and if that didn’t work… well, she did have a son. “I do appreciate the tip, by the way,” Killian said with a smile, not bothering to slow his pace. </p><p>Janus’s face darkened as he kept up easily. “I’m glad,” he said curtly. He didn’t sound it. In the long run, death of the Nines helped his tribute’s odds. Obviously, Janus hadn’t intended for Killian to use that information so soon in the Games. </p><p>“I hope you weren’t expecting anything of me,” Killian said pointedly, “because I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint. Even you can only do so much, Mr. Shyle.” Janus didn’t react to that; good man. “I wouldn’t worry about your tribute, though,” Killian continued. “If she’s smart enough to make it, she will.”</p><p>“I’m not worried,” Janus said, his tone disinterested. A lie, of course. If he weren’t worried, he wouldn’t bother to be here. Janus worrying over his tribute was amusing in itself; it was very unlike him. Perhaps she reminded the Victor of his own daughter.</p><p>“Of course not.” Killian gave him a placating smile. He stopped in front of the door to the Gamemaker’s room; they’d walked a full circuit around the building floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s fairly late, and I must be getting back to my work.”</p><p>Janus bowed his head, taking the dismissal in stride.</p><p>Killian pressed a button and the door opened behind him. “I am sorry about your male tribute, by the way,” he said indifferently. “Some things really are out of my control.”</p><p>____</p><p>Riin’s worries from the previous night were unfounded; she woke hours before Oriel had even twitched, the rising sun wiping the night sky away with trails of orange and pink. </p><p>Slowly and carefully, Riin stretched her limbs, trying to shake the sleep from her body without rousing Oriel. She slid out from underneath the fern, slipping behind a wide tree trunk to stand at her full height, waking herself fully with the movement. Oriel slept on; Riin wondered if she should act now. Instead, she pulled more strawberries from her pocket, making a small breakfast from the fruit. </p><p>Oriel was still sleeping when she finished, and Riin picked her way around his camp, looking for a hiding spot that would give her a better opening of attack. A bushy clump of ferns next to another tree trunk offered her what she needed, her shoes covered by a patch of those strange yellow wildflowers. A fallen log lay in front of her, too small to offer cover, but a perfect place to sit for a quick breakfast; maybe Oriel would have the same thought upon waking. </p><p>It was about damn time he faced the day anyways; Riin was getting impatient. She found a small, solid pebble at her feet and was about to chuck it into Oriel’s bush when he sat straight up as if startled. Riin jumped; had he seen her? </p><p>His head whipped around frantically, shaking the bush, and he clambered outward with his knife drawn. Riin froze, but he wasn’t facing her direction. He lowered the knife, seemingly embarrassed. “Just a nightmare,” he muttered to himself. Riin relaxed slightly. He hadn’t seen her at all. </p><p>She’d been right about the log; Oriel sat right down with his back to her, laying his knife down to pull out a pack of dried fruit. Riin scowled from her position. If she didn’t act soon, he’d finish off the rations before she could get to them - unacceptable. </p><p>Taking a silent breath, Riin drew back her arm and chucked the rock over Oriel’s head into the brush opposite him. He flinched and froze, staring wildly at the rustling bush. When nothing immediately jumped out, Oriel stepped closer to investigate, still clutching the fruit pack in his hand. </p><p>The knife lay forgotten on the log; Riin’s eyes flicked between it and Oriel, and she darted from her position, silently snatching the blade and flattening herself behind the log, clamping her teeth around her panting breaths. She poked her head over the log; Oriel was still nosing around the decoy bush. How had he not seen her? She was barely five feet from him, crouching visibly behind the log.  </p><p>Now or never; Riin clutched the blade like a dagger, stepping over the log and tiptoeing towards his unsuspecting form, her hand shaking slightly. </p><p>Two feet away; Riin took another step, and he stiffened. <em>Shit!</em> She lunged, driving the blade between his shoulder and neck. He howled in shock and pain, stumbling forward to wrench himself from the knife’s grasp. Riin ripped the blade from his flesh, and Oriel whipped around to face his assailant. </p><p><em>“You,”</em> he gasped, scrambling at his wound with his hands, trying to staunch the blood. His eyes widened in fear, betrayal. Some ally she was. <em>Just returning the favor.</em></p><p>Oriel tried to lunge for her, grasping at the knife, a desperate expression flashing across his face as Riin leapt out of the way with a hiss. He stumbled to his knees, gasping in pain; Riin kicked him swiftly in the wound she had inflicted, drawing a strangled cry from his lips as he landed face-first in the dirt. She almost expected him to fight back more, but the blood pooling from his wound seemed to drain his energy as well as his life. How long would it take him to bleed out? </p><p> Riin knelt down on one knee, meeting Oriel’s terrified baby-blue eyes. Tears streamed down his cheek and nose, mixing with the dirt and blood. “No,” he whimpered. “Please…” </p><p>He was dying, and he knew it. Something in Riin’s expression must have crushed whatever hope he had left, and he let out a sob and then a gasp as Riin shoved the knife between his shoulder blades. He made no further sound. </p><p>Riin stood at the same time the cannon went off, signaling Oriel’s death. </p><p>A brief image flashed through her mind: her parents and Iden crowded around their screen, watching their daughter, sister, murder somebody’s son. Who had watched Oriel die? Iden had seen her kill spiders; how did he react to her killing a person? </p><p>Riin let out a shaky breath. <em>Get over it.</em> She could deal with that later, or not at all; the hovercraft would arrive soon, and Riin knew she needed to get moving. She packed up Oriel’s things - her things now - and slung the pack around her shoulders. Oriel’s blank eyes stared at her accusingly as she stole his possessions like she’d stolen his life. Remnant feelings of guilt were easily dismissed by her will for survival. <em>It was me or him,</em> she told herself as she crouched by the river, scrubbing the blood from her hands and her knife. <em>Me or him.</em></p><p> She could live with that, as long as she was alive to do so.</p><p>Almost as an afterthought, Riin went back and peeled the bloody jacket from Oriel’s body, figuring she might need the warmth it would provide later on. She managed to shove it into her pack before the hovercraft arrived, grabbing the body with its cold metal claws and leaving Oriel’s lifeless arms to dangle in the breeze. Riin caught a glimpse of a large, dark bruise on his upper left arm; it must have been from his success at securing the pack from the Bloodbath. </p><p>She decided against washing and mending the jacket for the moment; getting away from her current position was imperative. The Careers were probably on her trail already. With a renewed spring in her step (or was it her nerves, still jittery from the action?), Riin left Oriel’s campsite for good, staying within earshot of the river. </p><p>For the rest of the day she kept on the path upwards, pausing twice to eat some jerky and crackers, pluck some strawberries and dandelions, and refill the water bottle, to which she added two drops of iodine. A gash of strawberry juice striped across her hand when she removed it from the bush; she stared at the red streak abstractedly before licking it off. The sun crept over the tops of the trees, beating down on Riin’s back at its zenith, and she removed her jacket, tying it around her waist with the sleeves, feeling a bit dizzy from the heat and exertion from the uphill trek. Repeatedly, she checked the knife’s position on her waistband before pulling out her sash from her hair to tie around her wrist as a sheath. It wasn’t as pretty as when Janus had shown her, but it would do for now. </p><p>Slowly, the sky began to darken and Riin heard the rustling of small creatures within the undergrowth. She hated not being able to see them; they could be mutts stalking her, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, just as she had with Oriel. Nothing sounded large enough to be an immediate threat, though. The squirrel that skittered across her path and up a tree certainly wasn’t. Unless there were fifteen of them waiting in the bushes —</p><p><em>Stop; that’s not helping,</em> Riin chided herself. She was no helpless prey; she’d already killed someone here. The thought and the pressure of the blade against her wrist helped calm her, though her head still raced from the earlier heat wave (or from the murder?). </p><p>The sound of Panem’s anthem startled her; it sounded like it was coming through a tunnel. Riin’s nerves spiked again as Oriel’s face flashed across the sky. Was it really that late already? Nighttime had fallen on the arena and she’d barely noticed. Riin’s body ached from spending hours walking up the riverbank, but it felt like just minutes ago she had sunken her knife into Oriel’s neck. The motion of the blow still echoed in her muscles. She held her hands up to the starlight; they were clean, the blood of her kill washed away in the river. </p><p>A wave of exhaustion swept through Riin’s body and she braced herself on a nearby tree trunk. What was she doing, wandering about in this darkness? Poking around the tree, she noticed a hollow within its roots, big enough for her to fit. She weaseled her way between the roots, tucking herself in, her back scratching against the wood. A few deep breaths brought the dizziness under control; the stars had resolved themselves into their usual pinpricks again. Riin felt slight relief, and pulled out a small handful of dried berries from her pack to get more food into her stomach. Reaching out, Riin grabbed handfuls of foliage, arranging the leaves and branches around herself to conceal her form from view. As a second thought, she pulled Oriel’s jacket around her body for more warmth in case this night wasn’t so gracious as the last. She had forgotten to mend it; a task for tomorrow. </p><p>Almost too easily, she drifted off into a hazy sleep. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D1F (Nova)<br/>2. D1M<br/>3. D2F<br/>4. D2M (Blade)<br/>5. D3M (Chase)<br/>6. D4F<br/>7. D4M<br/>8. D6F (Briar)<br/>9. D7M<br/>10. D8F (Riin)<br/>11. D11F (Mira)<br/>12. D12F<br/>13. D13F (Kella)<br/>14. D13M (Victor)<br/>____</p><p>Baby’s first murder.. yikes</p><p>This is a short one, I know, but we’ve got lots of things happening here, and Riin’s not out of the doghouse yet. And Janus, bless his soul, he tried to help. Hope that doesn’t bite him (and Riin) in the ass any more than it already did, rip. </p><p>Also, chapter-wise, this is the halfway point... it honestly doesn’t feel like it from my end. The chapters get a bit longer after this, I believe. There’s a Lot that still needs to happen (and I still need to finish up writing the last couple scenes/chapters..)</p><p>I’d love to hear your thoughts on the games so far too ! I’m mostly writing from Riin’s perspective, but every now and then I like to switch it up.. after all, Riin can only see what’s in front of her, and guess at everything else.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Mind Over Flower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/O3UuqCN1sQs">The Devil Within</a> by Digital Daggers</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin would never admit it, but she was terrified. Of course, she had no one to admit it to; she had no allies in this forsaken forest, no idea where she was going. She’d woken dizzier than when she’d gone to sleep, with chills and a pounding headache to boot, and now she was going to die here, feverish and alone, getting worse and worse and worse...</p><p>Again, she wondered if it was something she ate, but she had double and triple checked every berry, every leaf. No nightlock, no hemlock, nothing. She wasn’t stupid; she’d memorized the edible plants from training. Unless there was something she’d missed? Plenty of unfamiliar plants and foliage peppered the arena, and just now she stumbled past another clump of those suspicious-looking yellow flowers, no doubt poisonous Gamemaker creations of some sort. She steered a wide arc around them, wary to even come in contact with the unfamiliar plant. That was the first thing they taught in edible plant training: if you don’t recognize it, don’t touch it, and don’t even <em>think</em> about eating it. </p><p>The root came out of nowhere and Riin almost face-planted, catching herself on the branch of a mossy tree. Her newly-acquired backpack hadn’t seemed that heavy when she’d first picked it up, but now it felt like the weight of the world on her shoulders. </p><p>She kept moving, slower and more cautious this time in an attempt to catch her breath, keep her head straight. Something was definitely <em>wrong</em>; she just couldn’t… couldn’t figure out what. </p><p>Had someone managed to poison her? She’d seen no one aside from Oriel, and by the time he’d seen her, it was too late. Was the river water contaminated? No, dying of thirst was far too boring. That had been last year’s gimmick, anyways. Or was it two years ago? Too recent, either way. Had to be a poison of some sort, though, or sickness. Had she been bitten by an insect? She should’ve felt that...unless the insects were so tiny they were invisible to the eye. But that was hardly an exciting spectacle either. Had someone poisoned Oriel’s food stocks before she had gotten to them, hoping he’d consume it and die? She hadn’t seen anyone else when she’d been following him, though, and he had been small enough for her to kill. Surely it was less effort to just kill him than poison him. Besides, the jerky and dried fruit packaging had been sealed. </p><p>Riin stopped abruptly when she realized she had been about to walk into a massive thorn bush; she turned sharply and continued on her aimless path. Briefly, she wondered if she was the only tribute suffering this bout of sickness. Pausing at the next tree, she listened as carefully as she could for the sound of an unwelcome presence. She heard nothing, though would she, in this state?</p><p>It was too much effort to think and walk at the same time. Riin sat down against the trunk, partially concealing herself between its thick maze of roots just in case, and tucked her head between her knees to stop the spinning. She needed to think right now, before she grew too weak and died. Was it possible that the other tributes were currently suffering from the same sickness? It could be the air in the arena, slowly killing them all. She supposed that was possible, if a bit impractical. Even if everyone had been contaminated, would they be feeling it as strongly as Riin was? She was so small compared to the rest of them; it made sense that she’d feel it first. </p><p>If there was something in the air, there was almost no defense for it aside from some sort of gas mask. She half-hoped to see one drop from the sky with a glorious white parachute. </p><p>Sponsor gifts were reserved for times of need, though. There was nothing; she was meant to figure this out for herself. </p><p>Riin racked her brain again feverently. What had she eaten since she got here? The meat and fruits from Oriel’s pack. A handful of strawberries that were definitely strawberries. Filtered river water; she’d made sure not to take risks with that. She sighed, and it turned into an uncomfortable whine. It was still a possibility, but would the Gamemakers purposely contaminate the water so even iodine droplets wouldn’t work? She’d been through this already. <em>Keep thinking.</em> </p><p>Thinking hurt. That was all she’d eaten in the arena and breakfast before that had been in the hovercraft. How unfair it would be to die of food poisoning from Capitol food. </p><p>But she’d had food poisoning before; this definitely wasn’t that. She hadn’t vomited, or felt the need to. What else? There must be something else. There must be. </p><p>She peeled her head up, glimpsing a clump of the yellow-headed flowers right next to her. Those weren’t there before, or were they? She couldn’t tell. </p><p>Riin ran through the list again: when she’d woken, she’d been taken away in the hovercraft, eaten a small breakfast with Loki, given that god-forsaken tracker injection, and deposited underneath the arena. Then the Games had begun, and she the next thing she’d eaten was the strawberries, and then the food from Oriel’s pack. That was it. </p><p>Absentmindedly, she poked her arm where the stupid tracker had been injected, lifting up her sleeve. Her finger left a white indent on the bruise. She poked it again, watching how long it took the purple to crawl back over her fingerprint. What a large bruise for such a tiny needle. Not even the mandatory vaccinations back home had this much of a repercussion, and those needles had been far thicker. Riin shuddered at the thought. She had seen the same bruise on Oriel’s arm just after she’d killed him, the exact location where the needle for her tracker had pierced. She assumed all the tributes had been injected; was that standard procedure? If the Gamemakers had wanted to poison everyone in the arena, putting it in with the tracker would be the best way to do so with the least amount of suspicion. </p><p>Riin blinked. That’s what she would do. The Head Gamemaker had promised her a twist after all. Well, ‘promised’ was a strong word. So far, though, nothing she had seen lived up to those expectations, but this… She remembered Aquila’s sly smile from the second day of training and felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. </p><p>The idea was ridiculous. A long shot, even for Aquila. How was anyone meant to come to that conclusion if they were on their own? </p><p>But Riin wasn’t supposed to be on her own. She was supposed to have allies, and everyone knew it. And she wasn’t the only one; the Careers, the Thirteens… Almost everyone had gone into the arena with the intent to form an alliance, save for Briar from Six. </p><p>Upon closer inspection of the bruise, Riin saw blue veins radiating from its center; her breath quickened. There was almost no evidence that the other tributes had been poisoned as well - the matching bruise on Oriel’s arm was it, really; that, and her brief analysis of the Head Gamemaker’s nature - but Riin had a sinking suspicion that she was right. And if they were, that gave Riin a distinct advantage...as soon as she figured out the antidote. </p><p>Even if Riin was wrong about this, she still had a problem; she could feel it pounding in her head. She needed to do something now. </p><p>Unfortunately, she had no idea what kind of poison this was, and no knowledge of common antidotes either; the edible and poisonous plants station at the training center had failed to mention that. </p><p>Again, she looked to the sky in hopes for a parachute. “Antidote,” she whispered out loud, sure they’d be able to hear her on screen. “Please?”</p><p>Nothing. Bastards. </p><p>But nothing was something, right? That meant the answer - and the antidote - was within her grasp. <em>Or they don’t have enough sponsor money,</em> she thought cynically. </p><p>Riin was smart, and Janus clearly expected her to figure this out. He wouldn’t leave her to die like this, would he? No, Janus had faith in her; he said so himself. She’d have to trust that. She glanced at the plants surrounding her, wondering which one contained what she needed. </p><p>Her eyes landed again on the garish yellow flower. The same as the ones she’d seen scattered around the Cornucopia field, and throughout the forest. The one that so clearly said, ‘I’m not supposed to be here.’ So why was it here? </p><p>It was so obvious now; Riin would kick herself if she had the energy. </p><p>Reaching out with a shaking hand, Riin snatched one of the stalks from the plant by her head. Apprehension began to seep in the more she thought about her task. This went against every instinct she had. To the Gamemakers and the audience in the Capitol, this was just a clever puzzle game, but if Riin lost, she forfeited her life. She supposed now the only question was whether she wanted to die from an unknown dizzying poison or an unknown and very suspicious plant. </p><p>Maybe her hypothesis was wrong about the other tributes. The mark on Oriel’s arm was one thing, but it was possible that they both had a more negative reaction to the tracker injection than the others. That didn’t necessarily mean the plant wouldn’t be an antidote to her sickness, though that made it less likely by several orders of magnitude.</p><p>Her brain told her she was right about this, but her instinct protested the situation. And if she were to eat the plant, which part of it would help? During training, there had been plenty of plants whose leaves were edible, but their seeds poisonous, and vice versa. She inspected the golden flower head, the stalk, the leaves. Underneath the dark green of the leaves, a deep red stain bled from its stem. Too many colors; this damn flower was making her head hurt. No, that was just the poison. Riin blinked, and the flower faded in and out of her eyesight, blackness clouding at the edges of her vision. She shook her head to clear the haziness and almost fell over, despite already being seated. </p><p>Her time was up. If Riin succumbed to the darkness, there would be nothing to drag her out. </p><p>Assuming this was an elaborate puzzle, it wouldn’t be unsolvable. Riin decided on the most distinctive part of the plant: its bright yellow flower. She plucked a feather-light petal and placed it on her tongue, tasting its sweet, earthy flavor before chewing and swallowing. Unsure if she should immediately feel the effects, Riin swallowed two more petals, willing to give the plant a couple minutes to kick in. She kept her head tucked between her knees, breathing evenly, still clutching the flower in one hand. Her heart was pounding; she wondered whether she made the right choice. Was she about to die as Panem’s biggest idiot, shoving strange muttation flowers into her mouth? She could do nothing but wait: either to die or have her weakness lifted. She hated this type of waiting. Every time Riin moved her head or twitched her arm a tingle ran through her nerves, sparks dotting in and out of her vision. <em>Am I feeling myself die?</em> Was all that preparation and scheming for nothing?</p><p>Similar thoughts plagued her mind, one after the other, running through her brain long enough for her to realize she was still alive. Neither poison nor plant had cut off her labored breathing yet. </p><p>Gradually, very gradually, she felt her head clear of the dizziness that had become so familiar in the past who-knew-how-many hours; the background buzzing lifted and she raised her chin, leaning back on the tree trunk and sighing in relief. By some dumb miracle, that had actually worked. </p><p>Relieved that she wasn’t going to die tucked into a tree with her tail between her legs, Riin stood from her position, grabbing fistfuls of the stupid flowers and shoving them into her bag. She left nothing in the patch, and began picking at the other one she saw too. Offhandedly, Riin wished she had a flamethrower on her; that would make it much easier to destroy the remaining patches she saw. A flamethrower would also make a lot of other things in this arena easier. Clearing herself of wistful thinking, Riin went back to shearing the red-green stalks of their blooms. </p><p>She finished with the patch and was about to leave this section of the forest when a flash of white caught her attention: a parachute drifted softly through the trees, landing directly at her feet. A second reward, as if her life wasn’t enough. </p><p>Still, Riin would be a fool to pass it up. Crouching down, she opened up the contents of the parachute’s parcel wondering what Janus had decided to gift her. </p><p>A sheath for her knife and a small box of matches. Matches hadn’t been a commodity included in Oriel’s bag, and Riin was glad to have them. Hadn’t she been wishing for a flamethrower just a second ago? <em>Close enough.</em> The sheath was the real gift, though; it fit snug on her wrist, and the knife slid right in with a satisfying <em>click</em>. Tugging her sleeve over the sheath covered it perfectly, hiding the dangerous blade from view. She felt a slight grin pull at her lips, and voiced her thanks to the sky. </p><p>She was alive; safe for now. Whatever the truth with the poison and the flowers, Riin had passed that test. </p><p>She didn’t quite know what to do with the parachute itself. She couldn’t recall what other tributes in past Games had done, but it felt wrong to just leave it. Extra cloth and a container could come in handy sometime. She placed it within her bag, tying the indigo sash she had previously been using as a sheath back around her ponytail. </p><p>Finished with her preparations, Riin went to start back on her path along the river only to realize she could no longer hear the rushing water. She must’ve wandered away from it during her hazy ambling through the brush, impaired by the effects of the tracker poison. <em>Okay, don’t panic.</em> She just had to find it again; it shouldn’t be too difficult to trace her steps back, right? Still, she pulled out her water bottle, relieved to see it more than half full. If she couldn’t find the river today, she had time tomorrow before dehydration would begin to be a problem. </p><p>The boom of a cannon interrupted Riin’s deliberations, and she flinched, wondering who the unlucky tribute was and, more importantly, if their killers were close by. </p><p>Another cannon shot followed soon after; doubly startled, Riin scampered up the nearest tree, scrambling swiftly up the low branches. Briefly, she wished she could move faster and more surely. Anyone could easily follow her up, though only if they knew to look. She couldn’t quite bring herself to take the risk of climbing above the treeline, the spindly branches above already bowing under the weight of a neighboring squirrel. </p><p>From this height, Riin could map out most of the arena, thanks to the slope of the hill beneath her. The Cornucopia lay directly in front of her, smoke billowing from a fire at the Career’s camp, though she doubted they all remained there. Riin noticed more than she had at the beginning of the Games; a small dock that had been hidden behind the Cornucopia from her starting perspective was visible now. An island sat at the middle of the lake, and she could see a lone boat moored at the beach. She wondered which tribute had decided to trap themselves there. </p><p>The altitude was sufficient for her to glimpse the hovercraft appear over the forest, vaguely between herself and the lake, reaching its arm down twice to pull the two unknown tributes into its belly. The killers likely still roamed the area, too close for Riin’s comfort. </p><p>Riin weighed her chances on foot against at least seven Careers versus remaining undetectable in her tree. She decided on the tree. </p><p>From her vantage point, Riin realized she could see the river as well; it was fairly close to her left side. Thankfully, she hadn’t managed to run too far in her dazed state. </p><p>She kept her eye on the sun’s path, wanting to give herself enough daylight to find the river on foot. The joints in her fingers ached from clinging to the branches, and she shifted her weight, trying not to shake the tree too much. There was no sign of the other tributes, Careers or otherwise. Riin didn’t know how long she’d spent in the air, but she was dying to get her feet back on solid ground. Cautiously, she picked her way down the tree, careful not to make too much noise. </p><p>Landing harder than she would have liked, Riin started off toward the river, staying within close reach of tree trunks and large bushes. Soon enough, the riverbank unfolded in front of her, the sound of rushing water music to her ears. Taking a seat on the sandy bedrock, Riin pulled out her now-empty water bottle, refilling and purifying it with the required amount of iodine. As she waited for the water, she pulled out Oriel’s jacket, the stitching needle, and the spool of thread from her pack. After washing the jacket clean of blood, she made quick work of the gash in the fabric, sewing it together almost seamlessly. Her father would be proud. </p><p>Well, that was debatable; her sewing skills might be overshadowed by the murder. </p><p>Riin heard her stomach grumble and wished she had more substantial food than crackers and jerky. Meal selections in the Capitol had really spoiled her, though at this point she would be sated with a warm loaf of bread. She doubted Janus would be that frivolous with whatever sponsor money he’d accumulated for her. Heading back into the cover of the forest, Riin kept her eyes peeled for a place to stop for the night. Another thing she could’ve used was some twine; she didn’t know how efficient the snares she learned from training would be, but she would’ve appreciated the fresh meat. The thread she had was far too thin to be of any use in that area. </p><p>She did have her knife, though, and it couldn’t hurt to practice her aim. Unsheathing the blade from her wrist, Riin tested its balance on her fingers, deciding on a nearby tree trunk as her target. She threw the knife, driving it point-first into the wood. </p><p>Belatedly, she wondered if she had an audience right now. Surely she’d gotten some camera time for killing Oriel. Unless there was something more interesting going on in another corner of the arena, they were likely watching her now. No pressure, Riin thought sarcastically. Fortunately, she was able to push the thought out of her mind, practicing at her own pace. </p><p>A startled squirrel practically dashed across Riin’s toes as she yanked the blade from the trunk; without thinking, Riin sent the knife flying towards it. Despite her reflexes, her aim was poor and the knife missed the squirrel by a hair. She scowled at the blade, now embedded in the forest floor. Her minimal training had been nowhere near enough to compete with the moving targets of the forest, tributes included. </p><p>Her stomach grumbled again, and Riin remembered that she was hungry. She glared more fiercely at the bush the squirrel had disappeared under and resigned herself to jerky and crackers. </p><p>Not too much later, the sky darkened and the anthem sounded through the arena, flashing the faces of the boy from Seven and the girl from Thirteen. So that alliance had stuck through to the arena, at least until now. Riin couldn’t imagine the girl’s counterpart deserting her; somehow, he had escaped their fate. Had it been the Careers or the Gamemakers who had gotten to them first?</p><p>Either way, twelve were left: the seven Careers, herself, Victor from Thirteen, Briar from Six, Mira from Eleven, and one other. It took her a minute to remember the last one; dipping into her memories from reaping ceremonies and training sessions, she figured it must be the girl from Twelve. </p><p>She wondered where they were hiding out; she recalled Mira sitting with the Thirteens and Seven’s boy during training. She and Victor must’ve escaped whatever had killed their allies. At least one of the others must be at the island on the lake, too. Had the tributes from Four not been Careers, Riin would’ve guessed them based on district industry. She couldn’t form any other conjectures based on that; aside from general geography and production, Riin knew little of the other districts. </p><p>With nothing better to do for the night, Riin weaseled her way underneath a rather fluffy bush, organizing her jackets around herself, and fell into a semi-restless sleep. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D1F (Nova)<br/>2. D1M<br/>3. D2F<br/>4. D2M (Blade)<br/>5. D3M (Chase)<br/>6. D4F<br/>7. D4M<br/>8. D6F (Briar)<br/>9. D8F (Riin)<br/>10. D11F (Mira)<br/>11. D12F<br/>12. D13M (Victor)<br/>____</p><p>Some fun life-or-death decisions... for once, being the smallest tribute is an advantage lol </p><p>And we’ve got twelve tributes left! Less than half of the starting competition.. fun fun </p><p>I hope Riin’s conclusions came off as somewhat realistic.. she’s still not quite certain about her theory here, but when it came down to making this choice, the risk was worth it to her. Let me know what you think of this so far !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Truth, Lies, and Allies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/dOEgFxZoon0">Bullets</a> by Archive</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>
  <em>Riin padded along the riverbank with Iden, watching the water flow lazily over the rocks, throwing sparkles of sunlight into her eyes. She didn’t mind, though. “You know, it’s kind of nice here when we’re not all killing each other,” she said to her brother. </em></p><p>
  <em>“Is it?” He scoffed. “Of course you’d feel comfortable here.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Riin frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, irritated.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Iden smiled at her, but it wasn’t made of happiness. “My baby sister,” he said, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “All grown up and killing people. What am I supposed to tell Dad?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Shut up,” she snarled, ducking out of reach. “You’re acting weird.” Iden was rarely patronizing with her like this. His whole presence unnerved her. What was he doing here?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Got any food in there? I’m starving.” Iden pointed to her pack expectantly, and Riin sighed, pulling it off her shoulders to inspect its contents. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>There were plenty of rations for the both of them, but Riin hesitated. “Yeah, but this is mine-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Quick as a flash, Iden snatched the pack from her grasp, darting just out of reach. A teasing grin played on his lips as Riin jumped to her feet, instinctively drawing her knife from its sheath.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thanks, baby ‘sis,” he said, confident in his victory. Another unfamiliarity. Riin growled at him. She’d killed for that pack; she wasn’t about to let her brother bully her into keeping it for himself. She stepped experimentally towards him, and he flinched backwards, letting out a nervous laugh. “Come on, Riin. We’re a team, aren’t we?”</em>
</p><p><em>Riin bared her teeth at him, advancing forward. He retreated again, glancing over his shoulder, and Riin took advantage of his divided attention, lunging forward to tackle him. Tripping over his feet, Iden fell backwards, dropping the pack. Riin straddled him, angling the point of her knife toward his exposed throat. His hands braced against her wrists, all his strength channeled into keeping his sister’s blade from skewering his neck. “Riin, stop! Please!” There was a desperation in his voice, his eyes.</em> This is why people like you won’t survive here, <em>she thought viciously, pressing her advantage and her knife with more force. </em></p><p>
  <em>A scarlet bead blossomed from a shallow nick in Iden’s skin, and he gasped in shock, slackening his grip enough for Riin to drive her blade up to the hilt into his flesh. He tried to cry out, but no words could form around the knife in his neck. Riin removed it, and a stream of blood stemmed from his wound, coating her hands in its anger. </em>
</p><p><em>Riin blinked at the dying body of her brother and she heard a ragged sound coming from somewhere around her. Iden was dead; he stared at her blankly, his eyes glassed over.</em> I just - I just killed my brother. <em>His cannon sounded deafeningly, shaking her whole body from the nightmare — </em></p><p>____</p><p>Riin woke with a start, forgetting where she was. Iden was gone. He wasn’t - he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t a tribute. She didn’t kill him. He was back home with their parents, watching her on the television, he wasn’t in the arena, he <em>wasn’t-</em></p><p>Twigs and leaves poked at her forehead and pulled her hair, and her vision was obscured by dark green and dappled beads of sunlight streaming in through her bush. A bush...she had been sleeping, in the arena. <em>She</em> was in the arena. Great, that. </p><p>Still shaken from the vivid nightmare, Riin brushed her hands against her jacket, relieved when they came away clean. It wasn’t real; she didn’t kill her brother. She scooted out from underneath the bush, kicking away the sleeping bag and stretching out her sore muscles. She dearly missed her padded mattress back home, more so than the luxurious cushions of the Capitol. That and her toothbrush. The only thing she had to help that matter was river water. </p><p>Her brain protested irrationally at the thought; she had killed Iden by the riverbank. <em>Stop. It was just a stupid dream. </em></p><p>Keeping her senses alert, she trekked toward the stream, the rest of the forest already awake around her. Riin wondered at her chances of catching one of the flighty songbirds she glimpsed flitting through the trees. Probably not much better than a squirrel, and with less meat on the bones. If her aim wasn’t good enough for a squirrel, it definitely would not suffice for any of the fat rabbits snuffling underneath the ferns. She’d have to be crafty to catch any of the living bounty provided. </p><p>She came to the river, sitting down next to the water to wash her face and mouth, hesitating a second before plunging her hands into the cool liquid. Her water bottle was full, but it was warm. With the plethora of cool water before her, Riin felt no guilt as she replaced it with fresh water. In an effort to conserve the remaining jerky strips she had left, Riin made a breakfast of dried fruit and the previous day’s strawberries, dandelions, and chickweed. </p><p>The morning was spent walking the length of the river again; in all honesty, she was getting bored. Still, bored was better than dead. Hopefully, the Gamemakers found something interesting on the other side of the arena and would be content to let Riin’s boredom continue. </p><p>Still, she kept her eyes peeled. For Careers, mutts, or anything else more sinister. She wondered how many kills the Careers had gotten. </p><p>A distant rustling within the trees startled her; listening closely, she pinpointed the sound as coming from the direction of the river. Riin quickly concealed herself behind one of the many wide tree trunks. She waited, picking up on snippets of conversation and more crashing and stumbling. A tribute, or tributes. Riin unsheathed her knife, gripping it tightly in her right hand. The voices continued; voice, singular, in this case, though its words seemed to be directed at a companion. </p><p>“I can’t <em>fucking</em> see, god- is that a river?” Riin recognized the gruff tones of Briar from Six, though she couldn’t guess the identity of her quiet companion. “If you push me in, I swear to god, I’ll slit you from ear to ear…”</p><p>An unintelligible mumbling followed Briar’s statement. Riin crept behind the undergrowth until she had them in view; Briar dragged a heavy-looking spiked morningstar behind her, leaning heavily on her partner’s shoulders, a tribute who Riin recognized as Victor from Thirteen. Well, <em>that</em> was an unexpected alliance. Was Mira with them too? Riin didn’t see any sign of her. </p><p>Victor’s large, dark eyes flashed with concern as Briar’s complaints echoed through the forest; apparently she didn’t care whose attention she drew. Riin suspected the tracker poison had caused her weakened state, the same as it had for herself earlier. The bald tribute wasn’t much bigger than Riin, and she noticed a large purple bruise blending with the sickeningly pale skin of Briar’s left arm. “This headache is fucking killing me, what the hell did you feed me, bug boy?”</p><p>“Sit down, Briar,” Victor pleaded. “You need to rest.” He sounded too worried to have poisoned her himself. Briar obeyed, sliding into a resting position on the riverbank.</p><p>Riin adjusted the grip on her knife, stepping around a thicket of thorns to get a better angle. If Briar was facing the same experience Riin had yesterday, she would be an easy target. For some reason, though, Victor didn’t seem to be affected by the tracker poison. If he knew the cure, why hadn’t he shared it with Briar? His evident concern for his hostile companion indicated that he should have done so. </p><p>She would aim for him first, though she’d be hard-pressed to ignore the vicious-looking mace grasped tightly in Briar’s hand. A weapon like that swinging around wildly was just as dangerous as one aimed with precision. From her position, Riin couldn’t tell whether Victor possessed any form or weapon or not; he’d be difficult enough to combat, standing a decent couple of inches taller and pounds heavier than herself, slim as he looked. A surprise attack could work, if she managed to get Victor in one strike. Briar wouldn’t have time to react before Riin finished her off — </p><p>Just then, Victor’s head snapped in Riin’s direction, and she froze immediately. “It seems we have company,” he said to Briar, who raised her weapon weakly. </p><p>“Show your face, coward,” Briar snarled half-heartedly. </p><p>“We won’t hurt you,” Victor promised. </p><p>Riin’s heart thumped in her chest. She’d lost her element of surprise; she had no choice but to comply now and hope Victor meant what he said. Sheathing her knife, Riin pulled her jacket sleeve over the weapon, hiding it from view. Holding her hands up in surrender in hopes of convincing them she was unarmed, she stepped out from behind the bushes. </p><p>Victor didn’t seem alarmed in the slightest. “Thariin Kres,” he greeted. </p><p>Briar choked out a laugh. “Of course it’s you. Where are your little allies?”</p><p>“Dead,” Riin said. “Bloodbath. You saw their faces.”</p><p>“You think I’d remember?” She rolled her eyes, or tried to, shaking her head and groaning as she was hit by an obvious wave of dizziness. </p><p>“I can help you,” Riin said, though she made no move to do so, her hands still in the air. </p><p>“Your ally from District Eleven died on the second day,” Victor pointed out. </p><p>Dammit, why couldn’t Victor be the one all fuzzy from poison? If Riin couldn’t get them to trust her now, she was dead. They’d hardly trust her if they knew how she’d murdered her ally. “He did,” she said, her voice growing softer with false grief. “Oriel was injured in the Bloodbath and I - I couldn’t save him.” The lie was surprisingly easy. </p><p>Victor’s gaze turned down in sorrow, but Briar gave her a look. “Sure, whatever,” she muttered. </p><p>“Look, I can help you,” Riin said again, putting her hands down. “But only if you agree not to kill me.”</p><p>“And how the hell would you do that? Got some magic Capitol medicine from your sponsors in that bag?”</p><p>“Fine, then.” She turned around to leave, betting that Victor wouldn’t attack her with her back turned, and Briar was unable to. </p><p>“Wait!” Victor’s voice stopped her before she took a step. “Briar, please. She knows about your condition.”</p><p>Briar scoffed. “You really believe that?”</p><p>“She will help you.” He said it with enough certainty to break Briar’s cynical facade; the tribute knew that without help, she would die. </p><p>“How.”</p><p>Riin ducked behind the tree she’d been sneaking around earlier, scooping up a handful of bright yellow blooms. </p><p>“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”</p><p>“The same thing happened to me,” Riin explained, striding over to Briar. She crouched next to the weakened tribute, offering her some of the petals. “I think they injected a poison in with the tracker before the Games started, and then planted these,” she held out the vibrant flowers, “to throw everyone off.”</p><p>“And you want me to eat these? This is a load of bullshit,” Briar complained. “You’re obviously trying to poison me.”</p><p>“You’ve already been poisoned,” Riin pointed out. “I could just wait for you to die.” </p><p>Briar grumbled, inspecting the soft, golden petal. “You want me to believe that the first thing that popped into your head, all dizzy and raving, was to eat some unfamiliar plant, and you were fine. Yeah, okay.”</p><p>Riin scowled. “I thought about it some,” she protested. “I memorized every poisonous and edible plant during training, and this one was on neither of those lists. The Gamemakers put it in the arena for a reason. It makes sense. The only thing that’s confusing is why he’s totally fine,” she said, nodding to Victor. </p><p>Victor’s eyes widened slightly as the attention shifted to him. “O-oh, we saw a couple of rabbits eating those, so we assumed they were okay.” </p><p>Riin stared at him. Dumb luck. Pure, unadulterated dumb luck. Ever the undoing of a well-laid plot. But clearly he wasn’t talking about Briar when he said ‘we’, though; his former allies, then?</p><p>“This is-is fucking stupid.”</p><p>“It won’t harm you,” Victor promised. </p><p>Briar glared at Riin and Victor in turn. She must’ve believed their combined logic and sincerity, shoving the antidote flower into her mouth. Riin held out more petals and Briar snatched them ungraciously. There was silence while they waited, then Briar blurted out, “It’s not working.”</p><p>“Give it a couple minutes,” Riin snapped. </p><p>Briar didn’t respond, content to wait it out. Gradually, what little color she had returned to her face, her gaze focusing to land on Riin. “I guess I shouldn’t kill you now.”</p><p>Riin assumed that was her way of saying ‘thank you.’ “I would appreciate that,” she said dryly. </p><p>“You’re feeling better?” Victor asked hopefully. </p><p>“Yeah, this one was right,” Briar admitted. She turned to Riin. “So you think everyone’s been poisoned?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“How the hell’d you figure that?”</p><p>Riin pointed to the large bruise still visible on Briar’s forearm. “Saw one of those on Oriel’s arm before - before he died. And on mine; right where the tracker was injected. Seemed like the most efficient way to get everyone at once.”</p><p>Briar raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Sounds like a stretch.” </p><p>She wasn’t wrong. “Was enough to get me to eat the flowers,” Riin said. “Even then, it was just a theory. Until now.”</p><p>“Doesn’t make for very entertaining Games,” Briar scoffed. </p><p>“It’s not over yet,” Riin warned. She preferred this kind of test to the usual strength and combat skill assessments the Hunger Games tended towards. Though, maybe that was only because she’d already passed this one. </p><p>Victor pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Do you think anyone else has figured it out?” An imperative question. </p><p>“Well, no one else has died recently,” Briar said. </p><p>“That doesn’t mean they won’t,” Riin argued. “It will probably take longer to affect the bigger tributes.”</p><p>“The Careers were healthy enough to kill Kella and Briston,” Victor said quietly. His features portrayed a soft expression of grief. </p><p>Riin supposed she should feel bad; he had obviously cared for his allies. However, neither she nor Briar offered condolences. Victor’s dead friends meant she was just that much closer to making it out of the arena. </p><p>“How <em>did</em> you manage to get away?” Briar asked. </p><p>The question surprised Riin. She had assumed Briar had been with them, but apparently not. And if Victor had been alone, that meant Mira hadn’t followed through with the alliance. Still, she wanted Victor’s answer. Evading the Career pack was not an easy task. </p><p>Victor looked uncomfortable. “I got lucky,” he admitted. “There were only two of them, so I ran.” The look on his face said he wasn’t proud of it. “They were too busy with-with the others, and they had no long-range weapons. Like I said, I got lucky.”</p><p>Riin understood; she would’ve done the same in his position. However, this gave them no insights on how to combat the Careers, aside from the information on the pack splitting up into hunting parties, which wasn’t unusual. Riin remembered that occurring often in the previous Hunger Games she’d seen over the years. </p><p>Speaking of alliances, Riin didn’t know what to make of their little group. Should she slip away into the forest, now that they no longer needed her help and had promised not to kill her? Or would they let her stay with them? Numbers might be better at this point in the Games. Riin shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Briar and Victor cautiously.</p><p>The silence that followed Victor’s explanation was interrupted by Briar’s stomach grumbling. “Ugh, I haven’t eaten all day,” she groused, slinging her pack from her shoulders and dumping its contents into the dirt. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” In addition to some jerky and crackers, her pack also contained matches, iodine, a water bottle, some twine, a piece of plastic tarp, night vision glasses, a rather small first aid kit, and a sleeping bag. Riin’s eyes widened at the quantity; she must’ve gotten the bag from the mouth of the Cornucopia at the same time she got that morningstar. Briar looked expectantly at Riin. “If we’re gonna team up, we gotta share.”</p><p>Relief settled in Riin’s mind at her statement. Taking the cue, Riin emptied her bag as well, spilling her food packets and supplies onto the dirt. Briar and Victor appraised the contents, the latter picking up the spool of thread and Oriel’s jacket, examining the stitching. “Lovely handiwork,” he mused before realizing why she might have an extra jacket that needed repairs. “Oh, um, was that-“</p><p>“Thank you,” Riin interrupted; Victor’s brows furrowed as he gave her a sidelong glance. </p><p>“Ooh, what’d you get here?” Briar asked, picking up the parachute and container. </p><p>Riin hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to reveal the full extent of her gift. “Matches,” she said. She decided on honesty this time and yanked the edge of her sleeve down to expose the sheathed knife. “And this.” </p><p>“Hm.” Briar sounded unsurprised. “Got some generous sponsors, huh?”</p><p>“This one came immediately after I figured out the poison antidote,” Riin said with a shrug. She’d hardly describe Janus as ‘generous,’ though she knew nothing about her sponsors in the Capitol. </p><p>Inspecting the bounty, Victor separated the food from the supplies, pooling the former together. “How long will this last us?”</p><p>Three packs of jerky, two sleeves of crackers, and four bags of dried fruit, though one was half-empty. A pause stretched between them as they realized they would need to acquire more food quickly. </p><p>“I’ve seen some strawberry patches around,” Riin said half-heartedly. </p><p>“Plenty of plants in this forest are edible,” Victor confirmed. He didn’t sound overly worried, but Briar’s mouth had turned downward at their prospects. Riin couldn’t blame her; she would literally kill for a warm loaf of bread and cheese right now. </p><p>As they sat, Riin noticed a fat-looking squirrel scampering around their camp, its head poking curiously through a bush. Riin’s eyes tracked it as it sprinted up a tree closer to them, stopping just above their heads. </p><p>Ignoring Briar’s protests, Riin snatched the opened bag of dried fruit, placing a couple pieces in the palm of her hand and holding it out to the squirrel. The rodent’s tail twitched, and Riin tossed the fruit at the base of the tree. Quick as a flash, the squirrel darted down the trunk, gobbling up the fruit pieces with surprising swiftness. It waited expectantly for another eyeing Riin with caution. She obliged, tossing a single piece towards the squirrel, luring it closer. </p><p>Riin shifted into a crouch as the squirrel nibbled up the fruit. Its head perked up at the movement, and Riin threw it another piece before it could dash away. <em>Just a little bit closer…</em></p><p>The next bit of fruit landed a foot away from her feet; the squirrel picked it cautiously. Hardly breathing, Riin held out two more dried berries in each hand. The squirrel hesitated before snatching the prize from one hand. </p><p>As soon as it reached for the other, Riin’s empty hand darted forwards like a snake, latching on to her prey like a vice. The squirrel struggled and chattered loudly, causing Riin and her spectators to flinch. She maintained her hold, grey fur poking out between her fingers, and avoided a bite to her other hand by dropping the berries with a grimace. Instinctively, she gripped the squirrel’s writhing body with both hands, feeling its tiny heart racing beneath her fingertips. Using her thumbs, she pushed downwards on its spine, resulting in a satisfying <em>crack,</em> and the squirrel went still. </p><p>Riin let out a breath, pleased with herself to have caught the squirrel, however gracelessly. She looked up to see Victor staring at her with a terrified expression, looking a little green around the edges. “Well,” she said, holding the dead squirrel by its fluffy tail, “We should probably cook this.”</p><p>Briar and Victor exchanged glances and stared back at the squirrel. Riin really hoped one of them knew how to prepare it; they’d gone over it during training, but she’d spent most of her energy memorizing plants. </p><p>“Just give me that,” Briar relented after a pause, snatching the squirrel from Riin’s hands. Riin didn’t complain, though she handed her knife over a bit reluctantly; if Briar knew what she was doing, Riin wasn’t going to stop her. She began gathering twigs and dry leaves for kindling as Briar gutted the squirrel, finding one long and sturdy enough to use for a spit. </p><p>Victor hung back, watching the process uncomfortably. His eyes remained locked on Briar and the squirrel, despite how the procedure clearly disturbed him. </p><p>Riin finished piling her sticks, reaching into her bag for the matches. She struck one against the box, holding it to the kindling until it caught. </p><p>“Won’t that lead the others to us?” Victor asked, his attention turning to Riin. His concern was warranted; Riin didn’t want an encounter with the Career hunting parties any more than he did. The meat needed to be cooked, though. </p><p>“We’ll leave as soon as it’s done,” she said, making the decision. “It’s a small fire anyways.”</p><p>No one countered her; it was the best option. Riin handed Briar the stick for the squirrel and together they fixed it over the fire. She held out her hand expectantly, and the bald tribute twirled Riin’s knife between her fingers before handing it back. </p><p>Riin slid the blade back into her sheath, wanting to be prepared in case Victor’s worries proved true. Briar had the same idea, tucking her morningstar by her side as she rotated the squirrel over the fire. The smell of cooking meat began to fill Riin’s nostrils, and she hovered by fire, fiddling absently with the knife in her sheath. The prospect of freshly cooked meat even changed Victor's expression; when Briar deemed the squirrel done, they each took their part graciously. Riin passed around some crackers to her allies, and they quickly scarfed down their warm though disappointingly small meal. It was the best thing Riin had eaten since entering the arena. </p><p>“Next time you’d better catch another,” Briar demanded. </p><p>“I will if I see it,” Riin said with a shrug, stomping out the embers of their fire before it grew. She could only catch the squirrels that she saw. “We should get going.”</p><p>They started upstream, uphill and away from the direction of the Cornucopia again. Riin wondered how much farther they would be able to go; she’d been walking the same way for the past couple days. Would they reach the end of the arena before the Gamemakers decided to force them back to the Cornucopia? Either way the arena must be larger than Riin knew, though her assumption that the Cornucopia lay at the exact center didn’t necessarily have to be true. Riin remembered the way the river they currently followed wound around the tribute pedestals, providing a natural barrier to an easy escape. She doubted any of the other tributes had taken their chances trying to cross it from the get-go. </p><p>Slowly, the sun began to set, poking its way through the deciduous umbrella of oaks and birches, leaving dusk and colder temperatures in its wake. They had walked a decent enough distance from their campfire, at least in Riin’s opinion. She looked back to see Victor and Briar tramping through the undergrowth behind her. Victor’s hands were full with various berries and flowers he had collected along the way in preparation for an evening meal. </p><p>Pushing a low-hanging tree branch out of her way, Riin stepped into a grassy clearing, slightly sheltered on one side by a large fallen tree. “This looks like a good place to stop for the night,” she said. </p><p>Briar shrugged in assent and set her weapon and bag down, leaning back against a tree. “Whatever you want, kid.”</p><p>Riin wrinkled her nose at the nickname, but didn’t say anything. She set her bag down against the trunk of the fallen tree, pulling out her second jacket to wrap around herself. As Loki had promised, the temperature continued to drop as evening encroached. “Victor, can I have the twine? I want to try setting up some snares.”</p><p>Victor set down his bundle of fauna, reaching into Briar’s bag to pass Riin the thin spool of wire. “We can help you,” he said. </p><p>“You two go ahead,” Briar countered. “I don’t know how to do that shit.” She mimed the motion of tying a knot, waving it off with her fingers. </p><p>Briar wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy person; Riin was sure she wanted time alone to plot something horrible. “Watch the camp, then.”</p><p>“Yes, mother,” Briar said mockingly. </p><p>Riin shot her a withering look before marching into the forest, Victor at her heels. </p><p>They didn’t travel too far, just a couple of meters away from the sounds of the river until their campsite was invisible to their eyes. Riin marked the position in her head, not wanting to lose her way just before dark. Together, she and Victor set up a couple of simple snares with the twine and some sticks, aimed at catching small prey like squirrels and rabbits. Riin didn’t think their wire was strong enough not to snap under the weight of a human, and she doubted that any of the remaining tributes were close enough to matter. </p><p>“I’m glad we met up with you,” Victor said quietly, securing the last snare the length of the wire could offer. “It’s dangerous out here alone, and after Kella and Briston...”</p><p>Riin hadn’t particularly minded being on her own, though safety was indeed in numbers. Clearly, Victor had. She had a difficult time trying to imagine him wandering alone through the arena after his allies had been killed. “I guess that’s why the Careers hunt in packs,” she mused. Victor’s face fell slightly, barely visible in the dusk. “I’m glad I met up with you too,” she said hastily; it felt a little too cruel to rub that in his face. “Though I don’t trust Briar not to kill me in my sleep.”</p><p>Victor gave a small smile. “You saved her life. She won’t forget that easily.”</p><p>“You assume she operates on a code of honor,” Riin said dryly. “And speaking of Briar, we should be getting back.”</p><p>They walked the short distance back to their relatively secluded camp, glimpsing their ally through the trees, sitting on the fallen log and picking specks of dirt off her morningstar. </p><p>“Have you killed anyone with that yet?” Riin asked, nodding to Briar’s brutal weapon. </p><p>Briar remained focused on her cleaning, answering Riin’s question with a casual air. “Yeah, the boy from Twelve, I think.”</p><p>“You think?”</p><p>“Must’ve been Twelve.” She shrugged. “You got Eleven and the Careers got the rest.”</p><p>Riin started to protest. “I didn’t-“</p><p>“You might as well have,” Briar said cruelly. That might’ve hurt if Riin hadn’t been blatantly lying.</p><p>“I think I saw Mira kill someone at the Cornucopia,” Victor added after an awkward pause. </p><p>“From Eleven, right?” Riin wasn’t surprised. Athletic and determined, Riin recalled that the girl had easily beaten the trainers with a staff. She couldn’t guess where Mira had learned to fight like that, but she was still alive, and still a threat.</p><p>“Yes, that’s her,” Victor confirmed. “She stabbed one of the girls with a spear, though I couldn’t see who. </p><p>“I thought you and your friends were gonna ally with her,” Briar commented. So she had been paying attention during training. </p><p>“So did I,” Victor said quietly. “Maybe she would join us if we found her.”</p><p>Riin doubted that. Like herself, Mira had intended to betray her allies from the start. She’d hardly be on the lookout to join an alliance now. </p><p>“Have you killed anyone, Victor?” Riin already knew the answer to her question; he had too much of a heart for such things. </p><p>“No,” he said. “And I don’t want to, either.”</p><p>“You might have to,” Briar said. The thought clearly made him uncomfortable. </p><p>“Since nobody died today, there’s still twelve of us left,” Riin said, changing the topic somewhat. </p><p>Briar scoffed. “Yeah, and most of them are Careers.”</p><p>“Is it usually this bad?” Victor asked. </p><p>“Depends,” Riin said, though with the Careers making up almost a third of the total tributes, the rest of them tended to go fast. </p><p>“So who’s left?” Briar wondered out loud. “Seven Careers, the three of us…” She ticked them off on her fingers. </p><p>“Mira,” Victor piped up.</p><p>“And the girl from Twelve,” Riin said, remembering how she had almost forgotten that particular tribute during her last mental headcount. </p><p>“Huh.” Briar sounded surprised. “That doesn’t even seem like a lot.”</p><p>“We’re thinking of the Career pack as a single entity,” Victor pointed out. “In reality, they outnumber us by a lot.”</p><p>“They’re not all dumb muscle either,” Riin said, remembering Chase’s sharp-eyed glances toward her alliance during training and the fact that she was the only remaining member so soon in the Games. Chase’s behavior around the other Careers had marked him as the unelected leader of their pack since Riin first observed their interactions. </p><p>Briar kicked a rock. “I hope they die screaming.”</p><p>Victor frowned at her, huffing a cloud breath visible in the chilly air.</p><p>Briar didn’t notice his displeasure with her statement, standing up from the log to shake out her jacket. “Well, I’m going to sleep now,” she announced, wrapping the jacket tightly around herself for warmth. She pulled out her sleeping bag, curling up at the end of the log that Riin hadn’t already claimed. </p><p>“I’ll take the first watch,” Riin said, retrieving her first victim’s jacket from her pack. Victor followed Briar’s lead, and Riin noticed that he was the only one without additional coverage. Briefly, she wondered if she should offer him her jacket before deciding against it, tucking herself underneath the thick fern neighboring her side of the log. He laid down between her and Briar, and Riin could see his shoulders shivering through the leaves. </p><p>Briar sighed in irritation once his teeth began to chatter, flipping back her sleeping bag and patting the spot next to her. “Just get over here, bug boy.”</p><p>“Th-thanks,” Victor mumbled quietly. He helped Briar unzip the bag into a blanket large enough to cover both of them. </p><p>Riin was surprised at the small kindness; she supposed this was Briar’s way of thanking Victor for helping her when she had been weak from the poison. <em>Where’s my reward, Briar?</em> Riin was the one that had actually given her the antidote. Maybe Briar had a soft spot for Victor. Riin couldn’t exactly blame her, there. Despite being at least two years older than herself, Victor had the innocence of a two-week old kitten, the kind that made you want to protect it, not take advantage of its weakness. Riin wondered if she could exploit that in her favor. </p><p>Next to her, Briar and Victor’s breathing became regular as they drifted into sleep. Riin was glad to stay awake, despite the tingling in her legs from sitting still for too long; part of her dreaded another dream like the one she had the previous night. Ultimately, she didn’t have much choice in the situation as she felt her eyelids beginning to droop as the night dragged on. She woke Briar for her turn when she noticed the stars had shifted across the patch of sky visible through the treetops and fell into an uncomfortable state of unconsciousness as she huddled around herself to keep warm. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D1F (Nova)<br/>2. D1M<br/>3. D2F<br/>4. D2M (Blade)<br/>5. D3M (Chase)<br/>6. D4F<br/>7. D4M<br/>8. D6F (Briar)<br/>9. D8F (Riin)<br/>10. D11F (Mira)<br/>11. D12F<br/>12. D13M (Victor)<br/>____</p><p>Killian: “nooo you cant just accidentally solve my mastermind poison arena trap and avoid a mind-breaking life-or-death decision that actively goes against human cautionary instincts”<br/>Victor: “haha rabbit says yellow flower tastes good”</p><p>Jdjjd that’ll never not be funny to me.. anyways, I’ve been waiting to finally get to the other characters! I think this chapter is so long bc I was just really into writing their dialogue (and bc I feel the need to write out every single little thing that goes on in one day... whoops). I hope you guys like their interactions so far !</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. March of the Widows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/MtCwK-K4yhE">Creepy Crawler</a> by Zombie Girl, Sebastian Komor<br/>Side note; this song is an absolute bop, it’s really fun to listen to when you’ve got your headphones all the way up and you’re walking somewhere in a rush lol<br/>Also: I kind of forgot that arachnophobia was a thing so... content warning for those lads.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin woke warm and well-rested for the first time in a while. It took her a minute to realize that she didn’t dream, or if she did she couldn’t remember it. She didn’t care to, anyways. Crawling out from under the fern, she stretched out her limbs and back to wake herself up. She was starting to get used to this routine. That probably wasn’t a good thing. </p><p>The company was new, though. Victor and Briar still slept underneath the latter’s sleeping bag. Like this, even Briar managed to look innocent and vulnerable. Riin pulled her arm across her chest, stretching out her shoulder, pondering her next course of action. It wouldn’t be too difficult to pull out her blade from here and —</p><p>Victor’s eyes opened lazily, meeting her gaze. “Hello, Riin,” he said, sleep slightly slurring his words.</p><p>Riin let the nickname slide past her as smoothly as the cold-blooded opportunity. “Good morning, Victor.” </p><p>That was the second time Victor had unwittingly stolen the element of surprise from her. Gently, he nudged Briar awake, standing up to join Riin in stretching the sleep from his muscles. “Do you think our traps caught anything?” he asked. </p><p>“I haven’t checked yet,” she responded. From the ground, Briar groaned, reluctant to regain full consciousness for the day. “Up, Sannibel,” Riin ordered. “We’re checking the traps.”</p><p>Briar growled wordlessly at her, but complied, sitting up and crumpling the sleeping bag into a ball. “There’d better be something other than crackers,” she griped, stuffing the bag into her pack and standing to join them. </p><p>“We didn’t set them up too far,” Riin said, pushing through a cluster of low-hanging tree branches towards the setup of snares. </p><p>The first was very plainly empty, and Riin felt a flash of disappointment, which only grew with the lack of any game in the second snare. The rest of the snares yielded only a single rabbit, but it was enough for breakfast between the three of them. Riin wound the rest of the twine around the spool, handing it back to Victor. Briar carried the rabbit back to their camp, skinning and gutting it with Riin’s knife while Riin and Victor built a small cooking fire. Riin kept on her guard as the fire blazed in case it — or the aroma of cooking meat — attracted any unwanted visitors. </p><p>Briar passed even-sized chunks of meat around the group and they ate in silence, too busy savoring the meal for idle chatter. They divided up the berries and leaves Victor had collected yesterday as well. The rabbit was gone sooner than Riin would’ve liked, though it provided more of a meal than the squirrel. </p><p>Before leaving, they stomped out their campfire, making an attempt to hide any sign of their residence. On Riin’s suggestion, they stopped by the river for fresh water. Riin dumped her bottle, replacing the water along with a couple droplets of iodine, and pulled out her knife to give the blade a deeper clean than Briar’s job of wiping rabbit guts on her sleeve. </p><p>Next to her, Victor crouched down by the riverbank, washing his face in an attempt to scrub away the grime of the arena. Placing the water bottle in the pack on her back, Riin followed his lead; the cool water felt refreshing against her skin. She rinsed out her mouth and hands, flinching in surprise when Victor dunked his entire head into the current. It took her a minute to realize he was washing his hair; he flipped his head up, spattering Riin and Briar with droplets of water, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry.”</p><p>Riin waved it off, untying the sash from her ponytail. She was considering doing the same as Victor when Briar sat down next to them, eyeing the river mistrustfully. Rather than dip her entire head underwater, Riin pulled her hair forward to rinse the dirt and grime from the strands. Briar brought out her own water bottle, refilling it with fresh water and adding the drops of iodine. The three of them sat in the sun for a bit, Riin and Victor drying out their hair in the warmth while they waited for the purification process to finish. Riin watched Victor absentmindedly playing with a bright green inchworm while Briar remained focused on the flowing river, unusually silent. </p><p>Up close to the other girl, Riin got a better look at the snaking purple tattoos covering her scalp and shoulders. Riin couldn’t decipher an obvious meaning for them; none of the markings formed words or obvious pictures. “How old were you when you got these?” Riin asked her. </p><p>“Huh? Oh.” Briar shrugged. “After my first Reaping,” she said with a bittersweet smile. “Kept adding more every time I made it through.”</p><p>There would be no more tattoos for her, Riin thought grimly. “Does everyone in District Six do that?”</p><p>She shrugged again. “Some of us do,” she said. “Teachers at school don’t like it so most of us grow out our hair to cover them.” Riin had no idea how the teachers in District Eight would react to spotting self-given tattoos on their students; she’d never seen anyone around her age range with one, though that didn’t mean nobody had them. </p><p>Riin huffed a laugh. “Not you?”</p><p>“Fuck the school teachers,” Briar said matter-of-factly. </p><p>Riin laughed again, and she heard Victor join in. Looking up, she saw him holding a grasshopper along with the inchworm in his palm, letting both crawl and scoot across his hand. </p><p>“Victor, what the hell.” Briar made a face at him, more bewildered than disgusted. </p><p>The grasshopper leaped onto Victor’s shoulder as he reached into the dirt to pull out a long, slimy earthworm. “Don’t worry Briar, they’re harmless. In fact,” he said, plucking the grasshopper from his shoulder, “Some of them are even edible.”</p><p>“Oh god, please don’t-” </p><p>Relieving the insect of its head, legs, and antennae, Victor popped it into his mouth with a cheerful smile, ignorant to Briar’s grimace. </p><p>More amused than bothered, Riin recalled the survival trainers mentioning edible insects, though she had focused her attention on the plants. She considered insects a last resort. </p><p>The other bugs in Victor’s hands didn’t seem to be bothered by the loss of their comrade, and he released them gently onto the dry riverbank. He gasped quietly, spotting something within a nearby bush. “Oh! I haven’t seen this one before,” he mused, reaching slowly into the leaves. Riin craned her neck to see just as he removed his hand, a sleek, bluish-grey spider spanning the length of his palm. Riin recognized the Indigo Widow immediately. </p><p>
  <em>“Victor, drop that!” </em>
</p><p>Panicked, Riin lunged toward him to bat the spider off as it crawled up Victor’s arm. He let out a startled cry as she smacked it away, and Riin glimpsed a circle of red where the Widow had been. “It bit me!” Victor exclaimed and Riin cursed. It wouldn’t take long for the venom to percolate through his bloodstream, and it wouldn’t be pleasant. </p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed another Widow, and almost out of thin air more appeared before her, as if they’d always been there, lying in wait. Riin froze. At home, the Widows only attacked if they felt threatened, but they were mutts, and this was the Hunger Games. Ever since the damned parade costume, Riin knew she’d be facing Widows in the arena. </p><p>Briar and Victor had noticed them too, the former scooting into a crouch and slowly raising her weapon. Both wore fear plain on their faces as the threat became more imminent, Victor’s laced with a mixture of pain from the bite. Riin saw Briar adjust her grip on the mace, preparing to swing at the nearest spider. </p><p>Riin’s eyes widened and she desperately shook her head at the tribute, but Briar swung the spiked weapon anyways, impaling the spider’s fat abdomen, and all hell broke loose. </p><p><em>“Run!”</em> Riin tore off as the Widows swarmed around them. Footsteps pounded behind her as her allies followed, crashing through the undergrowth along the riverbank. Widows weren’t normally this fast; they must have been further enhanced by the Gamemakers. They poured over tree trunks and bushes, sweeping the ground behind Riin and her companions. Victor’s labored breathing was barely audible over the skittering of thousands of spider legs and their own lumbering path through the forest. The venom was already taking effect; if they didn’t get to safety soon, it would be too late. </p><p>The spiders herded them back the way they came, but Riin hardly noticed, slapping away any jumpers and crushing the ones that got too close under her feet. Her own breath came in gasps, adrenaline taking over exertion. To her left, Briar squealed as a spider landed on her arm, and she shook it off before it could bite, stumbling through a fern but managing to keep her footing. Riin’s knife found home in her grip, though it wasn’t much use against so many tiny enemies. </p><p>They sped through the forest, and Riin thought she recognized the site where she’d first come across Victor and Briar. A tickle slid up the back of her leg and Riin shrieked, leaping mid-sprint to shake the unseen Widow from her leg. She felt no sharp sting of the Widow’s venomous bite, and kept her pace. </p><p>Unexpectedly, Victor staggered into her, nearly toppling both of them. Riin regained her balance, practically dragging her ally by the arm. He groaned in pain; Riin had accidentally grabbed his bitten arm. “H-hurts,” he said through a grimace, his expression contorted by the stinging venom. </p><p>There was no way Riin could support him by herself; Victor wasn’t large for his age, but he easily had forty pounds on her. “Briar, help me!” Riin cried desperately, struggling as Victor leaned more heavily on her. </p><p>Briar switched her grip on the morningstar to her other hand, taking most of Victor’s weight on her shoulders. There wasn’t enough time to thank her; they had slowed down considerably and were now surrounded completely by the vicious spiders, cut off from behind by the rushing river. They were trapped, and Riin hated being trapped. They were going to die; she should’ve just left Victor behind, why had she helped him? That was <em>stupid!</em></p><p>The boom of a cannon startled Riin and some of the spiders, it seemed. She looked up instinctively, then back at Victor, in his critical condition. He was still whimpering in pain; whoever had just died, it was no one from their alliance. </p><p>In a brief second glance, she looked back at the trees and caught a flash of color, the same dark green as her jacket. <em>A tribute!</em> The spiders had paused their advance upon cornering the tributes; the Gamemakers must want a confrontation. Riin looked closer, briefly glimpsing the tribute between the branches: Chase’s smirking face smiled down on them from on high. <em>What the hell is he doing here? Where are the others?</em> Where there was one Career, there was more, and Riin began to panic. Between the Widows and the Careers, there was only certain death. </p><p>Neither of her allies had noticed Chase, and Riin made an executive decision just as the spiders surged again. “The river, quick!”</p><p>Briar hesitated, but the momentum of Riin’s leap was enough to send the three of them toppling backwards into the icy current. Briar’s screech of shock was cut off as she went underwater, and Riin strained under Victor’s limp body, struggling to keep both their heads above the water. The river swept them along gracelessly, and it was all Riin could do to keep them afloat. She heard Briar’s gasp as the girl resurfaced, lashing out with an arm to grab Riin’s bobbing form. </p><p>Victor’s soft whines were slowly evolving into sobs as the venom began to spread through his body; there was precious little time until the pain took over, until there would be no helping him. They needed to get out of the river, and preferably on the opposing side from the Widows. The river wasn’t too wide; her feet just scraped the bottom, and she kicked out towards the riverbank. As much as she’d hated swimming lessons during gym class, she was glad to have the skills now. Her legs strained from the effort, and it became increasingly difficult to guide their path as the water grew deeper in the center of the river. Briar sensed what she was trying to do, lending her energy to the goal. The time it took to reach the bank felt agonizingly slow, but eventually, Riin’s toes found purchase against the rocky riverbed, enough to drag herself and Victor - with Briar’s help - to dry land. </p><p>“If you do that again,” Briar hissed through panting breaths, “I swear, I’ll bash your fucking brains in.” She had somehow managed to maintain hold of her morningstar during their swim, but set it down now, reaching into her soggy pack to pull out the equally drenched sleeping bag, wrapping it around herself in hopes of preventing the oncoming set of shivers. </p><p>They lay for a brief second, panting heavily, Victor coughing up water with his cries. He curled in on himself, clutching his bitten arm to his chest and moaning in misery. </p><p><em>Shit, the poison!</em> Riin didn’t know if she could still help him, wasn’t even sure if she knew how. She’d only seen someone bitten once, and her mother had been there immediately to extract the venom from Iden’s bite. Scooting closer to Victor, Riin tried to pry the injured arm from his grasp. He wailed in protest, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his cheeks. “Victor, please-“</p><p>“What the hell are you doing to him?” Briar’s tone was accusatory. </p><p>“He’s going to die if I don’t help him,” Riin shot back. </p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Keep watch for Careers,” Riin said dismissively; with more force, she wrenched Victor’s arm from its position, ignoring his scream of pain. Inspecting the wound, she clearly saw where the venom had entered; the bite was raised about an inch above his skin and highly irritated. Despite their venture into the river, a thin trail of blood still leaked from the puncture. That was a good sign; if the wound had closed up, the venom would be trapped in his system for good. </p><p>Taking a breath, she raised his arm to her lips and began sucking the venom out, struggling to maintain her hold as he began writhing and thrashing. She almost retched at the taste, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from doing so. Victor’s blood tasted of bile and acid, though that meant the venom was leaving his body. </p><p>Riin’s tongue was stinging; she paused to spit the venom from her mouth but hesitated. On a whim, she pulled out her water bottle, dumping its contents into the grass. Ignoring Briar’s confused and then disgusted expression, Riin spat the combination of venom and blood into the bottle. She continued the process of leeching the poison from Victor’s arm, adding the lethal fluids to the bottle while trying to hold him still, her knee pushing against his chest. Eventually, the acrid tang in his blood began to fade, and Riin stopped. There was nothing more she could do. </p><p>Or was there? As she sat back on her haunches, Riin caught sight of a snow-colored parachute drifting down to land directly on top of Victor’s chest. Inside was a syringe full of bright blue liquid; an antidote to the venom? Riin hasn’t known such a think existed. </p><p>A short list of instructions came with the package. It wasn’t, in fact, an antidote, but it should at least keep the venom from killing him; something about blood strengthening. Riin didn’t bother to read it, plunging the needle into his arm. </p><p>Whatever was in the syringe wasn’t pleasant; Victor let out a low, keening wail, as it raced under his skin, his veins prominent against his pale flesh. Riin wrinkled her nose at the sound.</p><p>There was no way to tell how much venom still ran through Victor’s bloodstream. She knew it didn’t take much to kill. His fate was up in the air now, even with the injection. Thankfully, his cries had now abated to soft moans; either the pain had lessened or he had exhausted himself. Or both. Riin surely hadn’t helped by dragging him into the river. </p><p>Something moved in Riin’s peripheral and she reached for the knife in her arm bracer, pausing once she realized it was just Briar. A cluster of yellow antidote flowers were clutched in her hand, and she offered them to Riin. “Thought these might help,” she said gruffly. </p><p>“Good idea.” Riin held the flower in front of Victor’s mouth and he blinked at it hazily. “Victor, eat this. It might help you.”</p><p>“Not...hungry,” he croaked, trying to shake his head. </p><p>“Wasn’t a question,” Riin said, forcing his mouth open and jamming the flower between his teeth. He coughed in surprise but obediently swallowed it with a groan. </p><p>Riin let him be for the moment; he needed the rest. Briar unfurled the blanket from her shoulders and draped it over his prostrate form, another odd gesture of kindness. She came over to sit next to Riin, plopping down on the still-wet grass. </p><p>“Is he gonna be okay?” she asked. </p><p>Riin answered honestly. “I don’t know.” Enough people had survived Indigo Widow bites, but the amount of time between the bite and Riin’s venom extraction was worrisome. She fiddled with the cap of her water bottle, the repulsive mixture of blood and venom sloshing around inside. “Even the smallest amount of Widow venom is highly toxic, and I doubt I got it all out. It usually takes a while, though. To die.”</p><p>“You’ve seen those mutts before?”</p><p>“Indigo Widows, yeah,” Riin said. “They’re all over my district.”</p><p>The name sparked recognition from Briar; the Capitol had been fond of their nicknames. “This is your fucking fault.” </p><p>She wasn’t wrong. “As soon as I saw that stupid costume I knew they would show up here,” Riin admitted. </p><p>“Great. That’s fucking great.”</p><p>“You think I could’ve done anything to prevent that?” </p><p>“A little heads-up would’ve been nice,” Briar shot back. </p><p>“Sorry, let me just check my Hunger Games arena schedule for you,” Riin said scathingly. What the hell did Briar expect from her? They were in the same boat here; Riin didn’t have all the answers. </p><p>Briar gave her an incredulous look. “You’re a horrible little brat, you know that, right?”</p><p>“That’s rude.”</p><p>The other girl let out a mirthless snort, shaking her head. </p><p>“We should get moving soon,” Riin said. “I saw one of the Careers when we were being chased by the Widows.”</p><p>“Again, could’ve said that sooner,” Briar huffed. “Now we’re gonna be slaughtered by the whole fucking pack.” She stood up, hefting her morningstar over her shoulder, peering across the river.</p><p>“He seemed alone. He was up in a tree.” </p><p>“Yeah, ‘seemed.’ Which one was it?”</p><p>“Chase, from Three.”</p><p>Briar cursed. “Why am I not surprised?” Again, Riin was taken aback by how well-disguised Briar’s attentiveness to their competitors had been during training.</p><p>Thinking back to their hurried journey away from the spiders, Riin remembered something else. “You heard that cannon shot, right? While we were running?”</p><p>Briar frowned, still searching the opposite riverbank for signs of the Career pack. “Yeah...thought it was Victor at first.” Riin couldn’t see her face, but she could hear in Briar’s voice that the idea bothered her. “Better be one of the Careers. It’s about time they start biting it.”</p><p>Riin hummed in agreement, reaching for her sheath to fiddle with her knife. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized it wasn’t there. Frantically, she patted her pockets, her waistband. Nothing. Where the hell could it be? With a sinking feeling of dread, Riin realized that she must’ve dropped it in the river when they had gone in. She’d completely forgotten about it. <em>This is where trying to help other people gets you, idiot!</em></p><p>“You think they’re all still holed up at the Cornucopia? We must’ve gotten closer to them; I can’t tell how far the river took us,” Briar mused. Her head was still turned away from Riin; presumably, she hadn’t noticed her ally’s recent disarmament. And she wouldn’t, not if Riin could help it. If another argument with her led to a fight, Riin was dead. There was no way she could combat that evil-looking mace glued to Briar’s side without a weapon of her own. </p><p>She wasn’t completely unarmed. Riin held the bottle of Widow venom in her hands still, though admittedly, she had grown comfortable with the presence of the knife. Poison required more craftiness to be effective, and it was practically useless in a melee fight without a blade to administer it to an unwitting enemy. </p><p>Better than nothing, though.</p><p>“Maybe we should investigate, when Victor’s recovered,” Riin said in response to Briar’s ruminations. </p><p>“That’s insane.”</p><p>“There must be some way to eliminate them,” Riin continued, thinking out loud. After all, Aquila had promised her. She wondered if they had figured out how to handle the tracker poison. None of them had died yet, and Chase was clearly fine. But why had he been alone? “Either way, we should move soon. Hopefully Victor’s strong enough to handle that.”</p><p>Briar grunted in agreement and they returned to their fallen ally. </p><p>Victor had succumbed to a fitful state, twitching and thrashing about. He’d almost kicked the sleeping bag blanket fully off himself. Neither Riin nor Briar were eager to wake him, but they really needed to get moving. Riin crouched down, gently nudging his shoulder. “Victor. Get up.” </p><p>He mumbled something unintelligible and his eyes popped open, breath coming in gasps. “Wh-what is...what-“</p><p>“You need to get up. We’re moving.” It took a minute for the thought to process in his mind. Riin wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to move on his own. </p><p>“Come on, buddy,” Briar said, offering him a hand. He took it, and she dragged him upright. He stood with a groan of dizziness, stumbling into Briar and almost knocking them both back down. “Woah, easy there.”</p><p>Riin ducked under Victor’s arm, taking some of his weight onto her shoulders while Briar balled up the sleeping bag into her pack. “Let’s go,” she said, voice straining with effort. “Follow the river flow.” </p><p>“Closer to the Cornucopia? No way.”</p><p>Riin had just about had it with Briar’s argumentativeness, but she remembered her resolution: no arguing with Briar until she could get a weapon in her hands. “They clearly don’t want us going back the way we came,” Riin pointed out. “We could run into more spiders. And we’ll have a whole river between us and them.”</p><p>That was enough to convince the other tribute. Slowly, they hauled Victor through the forest, encouraging him to walk on his own feet while guiding him along their chosen path, keeping the river in sight. Unfortunately, he was larger than both Riin and Briar, not by much on Briar’s end, but enough to keep their pace pathetically slow. </p><p>“If anyone’s following us,” Briar huffed, “they could’ve killed us a thousand times over.”</p><p>Riin agreed, and they elected to stop upon reaching a clearing within the undergrowth. Gently, they released Victor and he shifted his weight to the trunk of a large tree, sliding down to sit between its roots. He smiled apologetically, wheezing out a quiet “Sorry” for his inability to travel. </p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Briar said gruffly, though there was a fondness to her tone. </p><p>Before Victor could pass into unconsciousness, Riin forced him to swallow a couple of pain pills she found in their little first aid kit. It would hardly be enough, but maybe he’d make it through the night. </p><p>The three of them sat in silence, allowing Riin the headspace to think about their predicament. With Victor injured and Riin weaponless, their alliance was frighteningly vulnerable; an encounter with the Career pack would leave the three of them dead on the forest floor in minutes. Riin could combat Briar’s misgivings with all the logic she wanted, but that didn’t change the truth. Chase had seen them. He’d watched their flight across the river, and could’ve easily swarmed them by now with his cronies. </p><p>So why hadn’t he? </p><p>The fear of the pack was strong, but Riin’s uncertainty — her need to <em>know</em> — was stronger. As risky as it was, she knew answers awaited her at the Cornucopia. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D1F (Nova)<br/>2. D1M<br/>3. D2F<br/>4. D2M (Blade)<br/>5. D3M (Chase)<br/>6. D4F<br/>7. D4M<br/>8. D6F (Briar)<br/>9. D8F (Riin)<br/>10. D11F (Mira)<br/>11. D13M (Victor)<br/>____<br/>(The cannon shot in this chapter was for the District 12 girl. It’s not much of a spoiler since I’m p sure I mention it right at the beginning of the next chapter.. in case u guys were curious lol. I won’t tell you how she died tho :V </p><p>As I was going thru this chapter for editing and stuff, I realized there’s a Lot going on here jfjf if anyone’s got questions about anything, feel free to ask in the comments! I will do my best to clarify without spoilers lol</p><p>Also, as another general heads-up, I just moved to another country and will be starting up school again like.. yesterday lol. If I’m later than one might like on posting a chapter, that’s why (school comes first, rip).. that being said, I have no intention of leaving this unfinished. There’s p much like.. less than a chapter left for me to write (it’s the last one, of course), AND I’ve also got another tidbit from this universe/AU that I might post separately when this is done.. aka something I was going to include in the last chapter, but I now feel like it deserves its own scene (it also would’ve taken away from the tone that I want to head out on with this story). </p><p>Anyways, we’ve got a ways to go until that. I’d love to know what your guys’ thoughts on this are so far! There’s some.. Stuff coming up in the next few chapters... until then, my lips are Sealed 🤐</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Healing and Scouting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_URxWvxrku4">The Invisible Plan</a> by Kidneythieves</p><p>
  <em>The art of the hustle<br/>To use the mind as a muscle<br/>Is the invisible plan<br/>The invisible plan</em>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____ </p><p>The face that flashed during the anthem that night was accompanied by a number twelve. Riin wondered what had gotten the girl; hopefully it had been interesting enough for the Gamemakers to give them a break while her alliance regrouped. </p><p>Riin had conveniently forgotten to set the hunting snares before going to bed. They’d need a knife to gut anything they caught, and Riin didn’t want Briar knowing she was without one. The girl might just kill her if she knew she’d have that advantage. Victor had thankfully passed out early due to his spider bite, unable to remind her about the snares.</p><p>Unfortunately, that meant waking up hungry, which put Briar in a rotten mood. “So all we have is fucking crackers?” she spat.</p><p>“Well, we've also got some nuts, and dried fruit, and jerky,” Riin supplied, in her best placating tone. <em>Sorry it’s not a Capitol meal,</em> she thought snarkily. </p><p>“Unbelievable,” Briar mumbled. </p><p>“Maybe our sponsors will get us something,” Riin said hopefully. Janus had to have noticed her precarious position. </p><p>Briar scoffed. “Yeah, while they’re at it, maybe we could get some medicine for him—“ she jerked her thumb over at the still-sleeping Victor, “—and a way out of this hellhole.”</p><p>Riin rolled her eyes. “Only one way out,” she said under her breath. </p><p>Thankfully, Briar didn’t hear her, having moved over to try and rouse their other ally. He sat up slowly, a low moan escaping from his throat. Riin offered him a smile from across their clearing, and he waved weakly in response before plopping back down in the dirt. Well, at least he was alive.</p><p>Riin frowned. What kind of thinking was that? It would probably make things easier if he died right there. </p><p>A patch of white caught her eye, interrupting the train of thought. A sponsor gift! So Janus had heard her plea after all. The parachute landed right in front of her, and Riin pulled off the lid of the metal container to reveal a basketful of warm rolls, a small jar of raspberry jam, and a plethora of hearty strips of bacon. She grinned at her allies. “Hey, Briar, I think you’re gonna like this.”</p><p>“So our angels are watching,” she said sarcastically, but her expression betrayed her pleasure. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”</p><p>They split the meal evenly, two jam-covered rolls and four strips of bacon each. It was more than enough to fill them up for now, but it wouldn’t last much more than that. Riin tucked away half of her share in a napkin made of parachute cloth, saving the metal container as well. Hopefully there were enough sponsors between the three of them for more gifts of bread and meat.</p><p>For now, though, Riin had plans. “Let’s go,” she said.</p><p>Briar and Victor stared at her blankly. “Go where?” Briar demanded.</p><p>“Downstream. If we don’t move, they’ll make us move,” Riin pointed out. She knew Briar wouldn’t be happy about moving closer to the Cornucopia. </p><p>Sure enough, Briar let out a groan of irritation. Riin had hoped a full belly would help her mood, but apparently not. “Really? This again? Victor can’t even move!”</p><p>Both Riin and Briar’s heads turned towards his direction; since when had Victor become the priority, anyways? In an attempt to prove Briar wrong, the tribute in question clambered to his feet, albeit by leaning heavily on a tree trunk. He offered them a silent thumbs up, and Riin raised an expectant eyebrow at Briar. “Come on; we won’t go too far.”</p><p>“Ugh, fine.”</p><p>And they set off, their pace painfully slow as they followed the riverbank through the forest. They walked in silence, Victor breathing too heavily to talk and Riin not wanting to argue with Briar. Along the way, Riin collected any edible plants she managed to find, hoping to make enough of a meal out of them later to quiet Briar’s complaints that would no doubt arise. </p><p>Catching sight of more sprigs of hemlock, Riin carefully grabbed a handful of the poisonous plant, making sure not to touch it with her bare skin. </p><p>They had to stop before the sky darkened, Victor too out-of-breath to continue. Situating themselves in a slight clearing shielded by thorn bushes, Riin knelt down next to Victor, feeling the temperature of his forehead with the back of her hand. </p><p>“Still got a headache,” he said, winded from their walk.</p><p>Riin smiled at him apologetically. “It might take a couple of days for that to go away.” Really, it would’ve been easier just to let him die. “This too,” she said, taking his spider-bitten arm and wrapping it with a layer of gauze that had been sitting in her bag. Riin wasn’t in the mood to play doctor, but she had a feeling her alliance with Briar wouldn’t last without him.</p><p>Victor winced as gauze added pressure to the bite. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. </p><p>“You know,” Riin said, “I told my stylist that if I died in the arena from a Widow bite, I’d have my mentor poison his food.” She looked to the darkening sky as if speaking to the viewers. “I know I’m still alive, but Loki, you’d better watch what you eat.”</p><p>That got a weak laugh out of him. “I appreciate the thought, but that’s not necessary.”</p><p>“No, it is,” Briar insisted. “Have ‘em cut out the bastard’s tongue too.” She barked a laugh. </p><p>Riin smirked at the thought, but shook her head. “Unlikely, unfortunately.”</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Victor’s meek amusement had shifted to an expression of disquiet. Was he really that squeamish?</p><p>“Hey, shouldn’t you set up those traps before it gets dark?” Briar asked. “We’re gonna need some real food.”</p><p><em>Dammit.</em> Riin had been hoping she’d forget. “The snares? Yeah, I’ll do that.” Standing up, Riin pulled the twine out of her bag, heading away from their camp. Once out of Briar’s eyesight, she pondered whether or not to actually string them up, knowing she couldn't bring back anything the snares caught without revealing that she’d lost her knife. She decided to set them up anyways, figuring it could get messy if one of her allies discovered the twine hidden away in her bag. </p><p>She returned to the camp empty-handed just as the anthem sounded. No deaths tonight. Surely the audience would be getting bored, unless something interesting was going on in another corner of the arena. <em>Hopefully it’s far away from me.</em></p><p>The three of them ate the rest of their sponsored meal from earlier in relative silence. Between their bags, there were only two packets of jerky, a single pack of nuts and dried fruit, and a handful of crackers. Riin had the berries and greens she collected on their way, but it was all she could do to hope that Janus would be able to provide them another meal tomorrow. </p><p>“Those snares better give us something good,” Briar muttered. <em>Please, Janus. </em></p><p>Covertly, Riin checked her back to make sure her bottle of Widow venom was still there. It was; the disgusting, half-congealed liquid sat ready for her use, waiting for her to figure out how, when, and who. </p><p>The night brought with it a chill, and Briar offered to take the first watch. Riin didn’t refuse when Victor patted the ground next to him, so she sat, leeching the warmth from his body. </p><p>Briar woke her later on in the night for the next watch; they’d easily agreed that Victor would be of no help in his current condition.</p><p>Riin watched as her allies slept, internally bemoaning the loss of her knife. It would’ve been the perfect moment to slit their throats and continue on with the Games. <em>You should’ve left them to the Widows.</em></p><p>But she didn’t, and she hadn’t acted last night either. She certainly couldn’t tonight, so she instead kept her eyes on the trees for unwanted tributes or mutts, trying not to focus on the frigidity of the air despite her two jackets. Briar and Victor certainly looked more comfortable underneath the heat-retaining sleeping bag-turned-blanket. </p><p>The sun began to rise, and no danger had set upon them, so Riin slipped off to check the snares before either of her allies had awoken. Again, they were all empty except for one, which held a fat squirrel hanging by its neck a few feet off the ground. Riin imagined roasting it over a small fire, sinking her teeth into a warm meal, before reluctantly stuffing it underneath a prickly thorn bush and wrapping up her twine. Her stomach grumbled indignantly. </p><p>Upon returning to camp and presenting her now-awake allies with the news of the snares’ failures, she was met again with the fury of a hungry Briar. Riin pulled out the berries and greens she’d collected the other day from her pack in an attempt to placate her. “I have these, though.”</p><p>Briar shot her a withering look. “Well, now I know how you didn’t get your training score,” she said scathingly.</p><p>Riin ground her teeth, wanting to spit something rude back at her. Instead, she just shrugged and popped a berry into her mouth. “I guess I could have set them up wrong.”</p><p>“It’s alright,” Victor piped up. “We’ve still got these, too.” He pulled out the jerky packets from their bags, and Briar snatched one with a growl. </p><p>“Maybe we’ll get more food from our sponsors,” Riin suggested pointedly, glancing expectantly at the sky. Nothing. “In any case, we should keep moving.”</p><p>Victor looked rather unenthusiastic about that, but he pushed himself to his feet regardless. Briar grumbled but followed along, snatching a jerky packet, and they cleared up any sign of their presence from the campsite. </p><p>Following the flashing silver of the river through the trees, Riin wound a course back towards the Cornucopia, making herself a breakfast of berries as she went. Across the river, the trees briefly thinned out, and Riin caught a glimpse of the Cornucopia, its metallic hull glinting in the sunlight. Carefully, she pulled her allies deeper into the brush, away from the visibility of the riverbank. Being spotted by Chase and the Careers would mean certain death under any circumstances. Better safe than sorry. </p><p>A short copse of trees appeared between the Cornucopia and the far side of the riverbank, providing safety and cover to Riin and her allies. As far as she could tell, it grew denser the further along the river they traveled, but it had to stop somewhere before the lake. </p><p>Ahead of them, Riin spotted a fallen tree; its smooth trunk - easily about five times as thick as her waist - stretched across the entire river, forming a natural bridge to the other side. It had fallen from their side of the riverbank, years ago, by the look of it. The network of roots was encased in mud, creating a wall that stretched taller than even Victor. Beneath, the ground was springy with soft green moss speckled by the now-familiar yellow antidote flowers. It was as good a stopping place as any. </p><p>Riin suggested they make camp for the night, the day having progressed well past noon. While she couldn’t see the Cornucopia from their position, that meant they couldn’t see her. Tomorrow would be a better day for scouting, Riin promised herself. The encroaching dusk would make things harder to see anyways.</p><p>This time, Victor came with her to fix up their snares, ensuring that they were tied and set correctly. She would have to be up early to get rid of anything they caught. </p><p>By the way he moved, Riin could tell that Victor still felt the after effects of the Widow poison. She remembered her brother encountering similar symptoms back when he’d been bitten; an event like that was hard to forget. The district nurses had assured that he would be fine, however, and the same would have to be true for Victor. The Capitol medicine must’ve been helping him somewhat; despite his clear exertion, the kid nosed around the undergrowth for edible plants. Plants and insects, she saw, as he snatched a hopping cricket from midair and shoved it in his pocket. Riin scrunched her nose. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? </p><p>Back at the camp, Briar grumbled about being stuck with ‘rabbit food’, though she ate the greens and berries provided. The three of them finished off the last of their packaged portions as well, leaving the insects to Victor. </p><p>“We’d better get some real food soon,” the bald girl griped, absently thunking her morningstar into the soft ground. </p><p>Victor shrugged. “The crickets aren’t so bad,” he said earnestly. Well, it was nice to see that someone was in good spirits. She certainly wasn’t; the fierce hunger gnawing at her stomach almost made her regret her decision to conceal her lack of a gutting knife. Almost. It was far too late now; Briar would certainly kill her if Riin’s trickery was discovered.</p><p>The anthem brought with it no deaths, and Riin, pausing in the process of changing Victor’s bandages to watch, hoped that wasn’t a bad sign for the three of them. <em>A good night’s sleep would be much appreciated, Mr. Aquila.</em></p><p>Briar took the first watch again, waking Riin in the middle of the night for hers. She forced herself not to act visibly grumpy; this was part of the plan. It was harder this time to get rid of the two fat rabbits that had the misfortune of spending the night in their snares. One of them was even still alive, its back leg bent and broken, caught in the twine. Reluctantly, Riin let it go. The rabbit hobbled off under a thick bush, never to be seen again. She wondered briefly who would survive longer here, it or herself. </p><p>Returning empty-handed was not an option, so Riin used her time wisely, collecting more chickweed and berries - she luckily stumbled across a thick blackberry bush, heavy with its bounty. Collecting as many as she could fit into a satchel made of parachute cloth, Riin made her way back to the tree root camp. </p><p>The others were beginning to rouse for the day, shuffling and stretching under Briar’s sleeping bag. Victor gave her a sleepy grin and a wave upon catching her eyes. “‘Morning, Riin.”</p><p>“Hello Victor,” she said, gently laying the satchel of berries and greens on the ground. “I brought breakfast.”</p><p>Briar’s ears perked up at that, and Riin tensed. “Ooh, it better be something good, or I - come <em>on!</em>” She groaned in frustration at the lack of fresh meat. </p><p>“If it’s all we’ve got, it’s all we’ve got,” Victor said with a shrug, grabbing a handful of blackberries. </p><p>Briar slapped his hand away. “Hey wait. How do we know those aren’t poisonous?” She gave Riin a dubious glare. </p><p>“They’re just blackberries,” Victor insisted.</p><p>The bald girl still glowered at her. Riin didn’t need this right now. “Look,” she said, popping one into her mouth, chewing, and swallowing. Briar waited a minute and when Riin did not drop dead, she helped herself to a handful with a huff. </p><p>The food situation was only going to get worse if Janus and the rest of their sponsors couldn't help them. Riin’s weapon situation, or lack thereof, certainly wasn’t going to get better while she sat on her ass. It was time to investigate the Cornucopia.</p><p>She waited until the berries had been thoroughly depleted before bringing this to her allies’ attention. </p><p>“This seems like a ‘you’ plan,” Briar said once she’d outlined her idea. Riin frowned at her. “What I mean is, if it gets <em>you</em> killed, I don’t want it to get <em>me</em> killed too.”</p><p>Riin rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay here and guard the bridge,” she said. “Victor, you can come with me. I think you’ll be more helpful with this anyways.”</p><p>Victor stood to join her, but Briar raised her discontent again. “He can’t go, he’s still hurt from those damn spiders.”</p><p>Back in District Eight, Riin had been fortunate enough to see a dentist a couple of times, and even more fortunate that she’d never sat through the ordeal of getting her teeth pulled. She’d certainly never been on the other end of the operation either, but she imagined that dealing with Briar was a similar experience. Maybe she’d even get the chance to try it out on the rotten girl. </p><p>Now, however, she turned her attention towards Victor. “You really did get quite lucky with that bite,” she said, drowning her irritation beneath a sickly sweet smile. She gently lifted his arm, unwrapping the gauze to expose the wound underneath. “I meant to ask you how you’re feeling today; of course I wouldn’t want you to come with me if you’re not up to it.”</p><p>The spider bite was still fairly noticeable on his skin, but the poison had already left his system. He'd be dead if it hadn’t. “Um, I’m. Fine. I’m doing fine,” he said, with the air of someone who didn’t want to get caught between an argument. </p><p>“Wonderful, because I’ll need your help.” Riin tied a fresh band of gauze around his wound, maintaining her cheerful expression. “Come on.”</p><p>Thankfully, Victor followed without further hesitation and without any more comments on Briar’s part. He even suggested that they camouflage themselves beforehand. Riin hadn’t thought of that; it was smart. They spent a couple minutes by the riverbank painting mud onto their faces, jackets, and even in their hair. Victor pulled up clumps of moss from the ground, sprinkling some green into their disguises. “Perfect,” he said as he poked strands of ferns into her ponytail, his dark eyes sparkling. </p><p>Riin batted his hands away, but she gave him a smile for his troubles. “Alright, let's go see what those bastards are up to.”</p><p>They crossed the fallen tree bridge easily, its trunk providing a sturdy walkway covered in ragged bark. Quietly, they crept through the copse of trees towards the Cornucopia, not wanting to risk their voices being overheard. Victor was surprisingly silent when he wanted to be; Riin could barely hear his footsteps as they wound through low-hanging branches and leafy bushes. She was both impressed and perturbed by this.</p><p>The end of their cluster of trees was in sight, the golden hull of the Cornucopia glinting in the late morning sun. This time, she saw the great metal horn lengthwise instead of face on. She and Victor tucked themselves underneath a large fern and behind a thick tree trunk respectively. They were closer than Riin had been on the first day when she’d observed the Bloodbath from afar, and she counted six figures lounging in the shade of the Cornucopia’s mouth. It was still too great a distance for her to resolve any faces, though she figured that the largest silhouette leaning against the horn’s mouth had to be Blade.</p><p>She glanced at Victor, who quietly held up six fingers. So she hadn’t miscounted.</p><p>Chase must be off alone again.</p><p>What was he doing? Who was he hunting? She couldn’t understand why he would risk going out on his own without any of his fellow Careers for backup. Maybe he wanted the most kills, didn’t want his cronies getting higher kill counts. How arrogant and stupid, to think himself so above the others that he aimed not just for survival, but for a record. </p><p>That didn’t seem quite right for Chase, though. Blade, maybe, but Chase struck her as smarter. </p><p>There weren’t that many people left outside of the Career pack, just her alliance and Mira from Eleven. Chase would either be hunting her or them. Riin cast her eyes slowly around her hiding spot, searching for a glimpse of a tribute jacket while trying not to rustle her fern clump. </p><p>Maybe Chase had gotten back to Briar and was in the process of finishing her off. Or maybe she’d hear a scuffle and turn to see him standing behind Victor, holding a knife to his throat. Or maybe she’d feel a cold blade against her own neck…</p><p>Riin forced her gaze back to the Cornucopia, derailing her train of thought. Focus on now, she chided herself. </p><p>Chase had seen them float down the river, and he would know that the three of them are still alive based on the lack of death cannons and nighttime portraits. It wouldn’t be a stretch for him to guess that they would still be working together. If Riin were in his position, she’d much rather go after a lone tribute than three, even if one of the three were injured. </p><p>So the issue remained: why would Chase be hunting alone at all?</p><p>They should be gearing up with Chase to hunt the other tributes, like they’d done with Victor and his former allies, but they weren’t. There was no denying it; they were weakened by something. </p><p>Unless… A different possibility entirely suddenly entered her brain: had he been kicked out of the pack? Oh, that would be rich; Riin would’ve loved to have seen his face when his fellows turned on him. Or maybe he’d left them on purpose?</p><p>Riin was about to whisper her conclusions to Victor when a flash of movement at the Cornucopia caught her eye. From the opposite end of the forest, someone was walking deliberately towards the Careers, seemingly without a single fear for their life. With them, they carried a bow and a couple of small dead animals, from what Riin could tell from their silhouette. </p><p>It was Chase, she was sure of it. Apparently he had been hunting for food this time around. Did he really think he could take them all on his own?</p><p>The Careers stirred, lifting their heads and sitting up straighter at the newcomer’s presence. None of them moved to attack, or even greet their leader (former leader?) and his gifts, though they waved and called out to him. It was difficult to make out their exchange, but Riin sensed no tension from any of the Careers, to her immense confusion. </p><p>Obviously they hadn’t turned on Chase, or he would’ve been murdered on the spot. Pity. So, Riin’s earlier assessment had been right: something was wrong with the pack. But what? And, more importantly, could she use it to her advantage?</p><p>She caught Victor’s expression and saw her own frown mirrored in his features. He noticed it too; good. Definitely much better than if she’d brought Briar.</p><p>Chase wound his way among his peers, picking a spot next to Blade to sit down and skin his catches. Soon, he had the meat roasting over a portable campfire that someone had passed him from within their loot; Riin’s mouth watered at the scent drifting over in the breeze. None of the other Careers offered to help Chase, but he didn’t seem to mind and handed out shares of the meal to each member of the pack. </p><p>It was strange, so strange. Chase didn’t strike her as kind; the opposite in fact. The rest of the Careers were clearly weakened, so why didn’t he just kill them? Taking care of them gained him their trust, but what was the point? What was he waiting for? And what had weakened them? </p><p>To an extent, it didn’t matter what it was. The opportunity was there. And if Chase wasn’t going to take it, then she might as well.</p><p>The bud of an idea began to sprout in Riin’s mind.</p><p>She and Victor watched them for the rest of the day; eventually Chase ran off again to either get more food or hunt down Mira. Or her alliance. Or Mira. Either way, he ran off opposite their direction, closer to the lake. </p><p>It was odd that he needed to hunt for food at this point; surely the Careers had sponsors with deeper pockets. But maybe not, since they seemed pretty out of commission. </p><p>They took a brief pause from scouting for a lunch of blackberries from a nearby bush. “It’s weird,” Riin whispered to Victor. “I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong with them, but I know it’s Chase’s doing.”</p><p>Victor hummed in agreement, but he didn’t bring any new ideas to light. They returned to their posts silently, resuming their careful watch over the distant Careers.</p><p>Riin had a nagging feeling about it; something in the way they moved - or didn’t move - struck her as familiar. They stood only when necessary, staggering and scooting to grab a water bottle or food, or to shift closer to their comrades. It wasn’t very exciting, and they didn’t do much. Disoriented, yes, but they could move when needed. Periodically, they raised their hands to each other’s foreheads. Checking their temperatures? Shouldn't they have fever-reducing medications? </p><p>Surely, Riin would've appreciated some of those when she’d been dizzy from the tracker poison fever, but given the nature of the puzzle, she doubted it would’ve helped.</p><p>And then it hit her. Victor seemed to realize at the same time, meeting her eyes, and Riin felt a grin spread across her features.</p><p>Chase hadn’t given them the tracker poison antidote.</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D1F (Nova)<br/>2. D1M<br/>3. D2F<br/>4. D2M (Blade)<br/>5. D3M (Chase)<br/>6. D4F<br/>7. D4M<br/>8. D6F (Briar)<br/>9. D8F (Riin)<br/>10. D11F (Mira)<br/>11. D13M (Victor)<br/>____</p><p>Briar is Hangry jhdf</p><p>I'd also like to mention that I've actually finished writing up the last couple scenes. All that's left for me to do with this is some editing to make sure it flows and stuff.. It's taken a bit over a year for me to plan and write up this entire story, it's crazy to think I'm just about completely finished with it.. tbh I didn't think that was going to happen because of my.. sporadic motivation lol. This is definitely the longest thing I've ever written (I think it'll be around 90k words at the end), and I've definitely got a ridiculous amount of ideas for the future of this AU.. whether or not I'll get around to writing them out remains to be seen. </p><p>In the meantime, I hope you guys are mentally prepared for the next chapter bc it's about to get really intense and will remain so for the rest of the Games... </p><p>(Side note: the wifi connection of the place I'm living at right now is absolutely Horrendous; I can barely get a continuous connection for more than five minutes at best, so posting and editing is. A pain ;-;  )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Feed the Dogs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: This chapter contains very graphic depictions of violence. While that is the first major tag in this story, it would be unfair not to warn you. I will provide a brief, non-detailed summary at the end of this chapter for anyone who is uncomfortable with that.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/Jk5o15Nri3A">Bad List</a> by Ayria</p><p>
  <em>Routine casualty<br/>Razor-sharp beauty queens<br/>Bridges built, bridges burned<br/>You will get what you deserve</em>
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    <p>____</p><p>Killian watched his divided screen intently, taking his eyes off of neither the sluggish Career pack at the Cornucopia nor the District Eight female currently organizing her plot of destruction. His tracking poison had provided an opportunity that the District Three male had immediately seized, keeping his peers from the claws of death with fever-reducing pills from the supplies provided, yet subduing them by withholding the real antidote. Killian couldn’t say he was disappointed, even if it had rendered most of the Career pack obsolete. Rare, indeed, to be given the gift of tributes who could forge their own games. </p><p>Unfortunately for Three, he might not have his advantage for long. Killian stroked his chin thoughtfully. The potential outcomes of the District Eight female’s plot were promising, but still, he hesitated. </p><p>To indulge the whims of his tributes, or to take the reins back into his own hands? </p><p>On the screen, the District Eight female mixed a concoction of the sprigs of hemlock she’d collected and ground up with a handful of crushed blackberries in one of her parachute containers. The District Six female and the District Thirteen male looked on distrustfully and curiously in turn. The growing tension between the unexpected alliance due to what the older tributes believed was a lack of food would boil over soon if something didn’t happen. After a moment of indecision, Eight removed the bottle of Indigo Widow venom she’d extracted earlier, carefully adding a small portion of it to the mixture. Killian followed her motions with keen eyes. </p><p>Out of his peripheral, Killian noticed one of his interns shuffling uncomfortably, glancing between him and the screen. “Um, Head Gamemaker Aquila, sir, are you just going to let her-“</p><p>Killian held up a hand to silence the intern, not sparing a glance in his direction. On the other half of his screen, the District Three male distributed the fever pills to his peers before shouldering his bow and quiver and disappearing into the forest for his daily hunt, a bit north of the area he’d scoured yesterday. His quest for the District Eleven female would be fruitless; even the Liopleurodon mutt Killian had sent after her two days ago hadn’t chased her off the island. Impressive, but irrelevant to the issue at hand. </p><p>Should he let the District Eight female follow through with her plan?  Either way, something had to happen; it had been too long since anyone died. Killian considered the possibilities.</p><p>“If the District Eight female is successful, it would greatly increase the chance of a non-Career Victor, which was a risk that the District Three male put in place by refusing to share the antidote,” he explained. </p><p>The intern nodded earnestly, eager to embrace Killian’s wisdom. </p><p>“We could cut the outlier off and let Three continue, or...“ Killian smiled. “Imagine what he would do to the District Eight female once he realizes who ruined his plans.”</p><p>The poor intern looked a bit green at the idea. He’d get used to it before long.</p><p>____</p><p>Chase was gone; now was her chance. </p><p>Clutching the warm metal container and parachute, Riin crept around to the tail end of the Cornucopia, footsteps light as a rare snowfall, keeping the lethargic Careers within the shadow of the metal husk. If she couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see her. At least, not while half-asleep and dizzy from tracker poison fever. </p><p>She was counting on it. A group of healthy Careers meant her death. </p><p>But she’d seen Chase’s actions, had monitored the Careers’ behavior. His attempt to keep the pack under his control by withholding the antidote would backfire. </p><p>Briefly, Riin wished she had her allies as backup. “It was your idea to walk into the lion’s den,” Briar had said when she’d brought it up. “You do it alone.” <em>Coward.</em></p><p>Slowly and cautiously, Riin made her way to the Cornucopia’s tail. Climbing the structure with her gift would be difficult, and she needed to do so quietly lest she arouse her quarry’s suspicion. Riin tucked the parachute contraption securely under her arm, holding her breath as she placed a foot on the ridges of the curved metal tail. Only using one hand proved a challenge, but a manageable one; her footsteps echoed slightly against the chrome hull, though quiet enough to slip under the pack’s radar, as far as she could tell. Nobody surprised her from behind, or cried out a warning shout, and she reached the top, flattening herself against the sun-warmed surface and peered over the edge. The Careers had barely shifted an inch. </p><p>Riin took stock of the camp, particularly the food and weapons. She assumed the Nova from One had her throwing knives hidden along her body and within her jacket. Maybe her pack too; Riin would grab it just in case. Two’s bow and quiver lay next to her vulnerable form, an additional short-bladed machete attached to her waistband. That could definitely come in handy. The remaining weapons consisted of spears and tridents, the latter favored by the two from Four. Riin had no desire to learn to use those on the fly; she’d more likely injure herself than an opponent. Equally as important was the cluster of food piled by a portable campfire. She gazed covetously at the ration packs, bags of fruit, dried meats, and the remainders of the game Chase had caught; a feast for her starving body. </p><p>And here it lay, ignored, guarded by a pack of sick dogs dozing in the early morning sun as if they hadn’t a care in the world… Well, aside from the inexplicable poison coursing through their veins. Riin counted herself lucky that they trusted their leader so blindly. Or maybe they were too weak to question him now. Probably how he wanted it. </p><p>It was Riin’s turn to take advantage of the situation. As quietly as she could, she hefted the container to the lip of the Cornucopia, making sure the lid was latched tightly. It wouldn’t do to spill the poison in the dirt before it could even take effect. Carefully, she arranged the white fabric attached to it, hoping the reused parachute would actually take air on its descent. Briefly, she wondered if she had mixed enough of the poison for them all. She had added the Widow venom sparingly to the hemlock concoction, wanting to spark a little pain along with the muscle paralysis. The mixture certainly hadn’t smelled too appetizing, but she counted on the significance of the parachute to bait the trap. </p><p>Checking the fabric once again, Riin released her Trojan horse. It took a heartbeat for the air to catch the parachute, the height of the Cornucopia allowing it to drift lazily to the ground. </p><p>She ducked behind the edge just as a commotion belatedly reverberated around the drugged Careers. Holding her breath and her position, Riin eavesdropped on the goings-on below as the pack tore into the gift, praising the “Capitol’s mercy.”</p><p>“I knew they wouldn’t leave us like this,” a voice wheezed. She recognized Blade’s gruff tone, accompanied by the sounds of drinking. Riin allowed herself a small grin. </p><p>“Hey, let the rest of us have some!” A grunt as the girl from Two ripped the container from Blade’s grasp. “Ugh, it smells awful,” she groaned, but drank it anyways, by the sound of it. </p><p>Peeking over the ledge again, Riin kept track of those who drank. Pack loyalty must be quite something; they all allowed each other at least a sip, despite some mild, half-hearted bickering over the contents. She wondered what a fight between all of them now would look like. Probably nothing like the Games’ usual standards, thanks to Chase’s manipulation of the Gamemakers’ poison, and now her own. </p><p>It didn’t take long before each of the Careers had returned to their slumped positions at the mouth of the Cornucopia, the empty parachute container lying forgotten in the dirt. Riin waited with her heart in her throat; the poison should take effect soon enough, and then the Games would be in her hands. Nervous excitement blossomed in her stomach and she bit her lip to keep her expression in check. She wouldn’t put it past the Gamemakers to screw up her plan, but she expected they were just as eager as she to see the outcome. </p><p>From her perch on top of the Cornucopia, Riin lay in wait as the minutes ticked by. She had expected her concoction to take effect immediately, but now she was unsure. Did the venom react differently when it wasn’t directly injected into the bloodstream? All she could do was watch as the paralysis took hold, hopefully accompanied by the bite of the venom.</p><p>Below her, one of the Careers let out an uncomfortable groan. “I don’t...feel good.” The boy from Four. “Head stings.”</p><p>“That’s just...medicine...y’dumbass,” his district partner slurred, lashing out to slap his shoulder. Instead, her arm flailed lazily, flopping into the dirt and missing her companion by a mile. <em>It’s working,</em> Riin thought, anticipation buzzing in her muscles. </p><p>Below her, Blade struggled to move himself into a better position. “Hhngh...mine hurts too. Where’s...water?” A lone bottle of water sat next to the girl from One. “Nova, water,” he demanded. </p><p>Nova’s eyes found the bottle, accompanied by a slight shift in her body as her arm twitched closer to it, face screwed up in concentration. </p><p>“Water,” Blade demanded again, more forcefully. </p><p>“I can’t…” her voice was laced with desperation. Riin felt her mouth move in an unwitting smile. </p><p>Only now the Careers began to realize something wasn’t right. They scrabbled and struggled in their places, trembling with effort and crying out in frustration spiked with pain as the venom-hemlock mixture took hold. </p><p>“W-what’s going on,” the girl from Four asked, the fear evident in her tone. </p><p>Riin decided it was time to make her entrance. She scooted back towards the tail end where the Cornucopia wasn’t so high off the ground, sliding down the metal hull and touching down on the dirt into a crouch. She stood, not caring who saw her now, and strode deliberately towards the immobilized pack. </p><p>Immediately, six pairs of eyes locked onto her position. “Kill her!” Blade ordered. Nobody moved, though their bodies strained with effort. </p><p>“That’s not very nice,” Riin scolded. “Didn’t you like my gift?” she asked sweetly. </p><p>Blade’s eyes widened with horror and his gaze flicked towards the parachute. “No,” he whispered, the futility hitting him like a speeding train. </p><p>“You don’t even realize how many times you’ve been poisoned,” Riin gloated, picking her way around the camp like a carrion vulture, grabbing the pack next to Nova and stuffing it with food from the pile. She made sure to steal enough for herself and her allies, doubting she’d be able to come back afterwards. </p><p>“Quit it,” Nova hissed at her, face convulsing from anger, hemlock poisoning, and Widow venom. “That’s...ours.” </p><p>“Don’t worry, you won’t be needing it anymore,” Riin said in a falsely reassuring tone, continuing to fill the pack with rations. She had debated looting them before or after they perished, deciding on beforehand, lest the sound of the death cannons draw Chase back to the camp. The sense of satisfaction she felt in drawing it out had no effect on that choice, none at all. </p><p>Striding over to the District Two girl, Riin crouched down beside her, deftly sliding the machete out of the girl’s belt as her furious but helpless glare drilled holes into Riin’s skull. “Thanks,” Riin said with a smirk, tucking the machete into her own belt. </p><p> “Fuck you,” Two spat. Ignoring her words and the ensuing growl of rage, Riin sauntered over to where Nova sat. </p><p>Nova, who had mocked Riin’s knife-throwing skills during training and laughed openly when Taylor had moved to defend her. She wasn’t laughing now. Instead, she writhed in pain, glaring at Riin with a mixture of hatred and fear as Riin plucked the knives from her body. Riin slid one into her empty sheath, unstrapping a second one attached to the Career’s wrist for good measure. Zipping open the girl’s jacket, Riin found another array of knives, adding them to her own collection and securing Nova’s bracer to her bare wrist. </p><p>“Get your filthy hands...off me,” Nova snarled weakly. “I’m going to...gut you...I swear.”</p><p>Riin ignored the girl; she had everything she needed. She could leave and wait for the poison to finish them off, or… </p><p>Well, she’d just acquired a new set of knives, after all. </p><p>A predatory smile played across Riin’s lips, and she pressed her new blade under Nova’s chin. Absorbing the rage-turned-terror in her victim’s eyes, she drew the knife across the Career’s throat in a quick motion. </p><p>Red liquid spattered on Riin’s cheek, gurgling from Nova’s mouth as she choked on her lifeblood. It took a minute until she bled out, her cannon booming after Riin made her way over to Two. Angling the knife to cut deeper this time, she sliced the girl ear to ear. Her cannon sounded sooner, and Riin heard a quiet whimper from the pair of tributes behind her. The two from Four; their breathing had rapidly increased to hyperventilation as they sat like sitting ducks, watching Riin dispatch the practiced fighters with ease. </p><p>“No, please, I can...help you,” the boy insisted weakly, trembling uncontrollably from the poison. “If you heal me, I can-I can —“</p><p>His voice was cut off by Riin’s blade, only an ugly babbling and a stream of blood emanating from his mouth now. The girl spat at her. “Coward!”</p><p>“Corpse,” Riin retorted, slashing her blade along the girl’s throat. Two more cannons. </p><p>The boy from One was straining for his sword with shaking hands when Riin looked up; she couldn’t have that. She stalked toward him, kicking the weapon out of reach, and felt a shiver of satisfaction at the noise of desperation that spilled from his mouth. Crushing his outstretched wrist under her boot, Riin knelt beside him, tilting his chin back with the point of her knife before carving open his exposed neck. </p><p>His cannon sounded soon after; Riin was getting more efficient at this. Blade was the last one left, sitting semi-upright at the mouth of the Cornucopia. As Riin drew closer, she noticed his necklace: three distinctly human fingers, strewn together on a wire. No way in hell was that his district token. How barbaric. Almost comically, tears streamed down his cheeks like a scared child waking up from an awful nightmare - rather pathetic for an eighteen year-old killer who took fingers for trophies. She supposed that’s what the prospect of certain death did to a person, though she didn’t quiet the soft chuckle that rose to her lips. </p><p>“Please…” he sniveled, all acts of bravado gone. The poison had him fully in its clutches now; she could see it in his eyes, welling with tears of fury as his muscles began to convulse. Riin only smiled, confirming his dread. “You evil - bitch,” he moaned, clenching his teeth around a shaky sob. Uncreative insults were the last thing she cared to listen to; she struck out with the knife, etching a deep scarlet line under his chin. Warm droplets spattered against her face, and the last cannon song rang through the air. </p><p>The iron tang of blood seeped into Riin’s tongue from between her teeth. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, the only sound in the sudden silence.</p><p>Standing to her feet, she drew in a breath shaky from adrenaline, taking in the grisly massacre around her. The one she’d created. The dead eyes of her victims glinted lifelessly in the afternoon sunlight. She could’ve let them just die from the poison; probably should have. Why didn’t she? </p><p>With the sleeve of her jacket, Riin wiped the blood from her knife, still buzzing from the thrill. Six cannon shots in the span of ten minutes; there was no way Chase wasn’t sprinting back to the Cornucopia this very second. </p><p>She needed to leave before he returned. One healthy Career was a whole different battle than six weakened ones. It would all be for nothing if she was immediately slaughtered by a furious Chase. Still, she hesitated, a stupid idea forming in her brain on a whim. Removing her sash from around her ponytail, Riin knelt down above Blade’s lolled head, and hastily wrapped the deep indigo length above the leaking wound on his throat. Her quick fingers worked the ribbon into a neat bow, the fabric soaking up the dark red of his still-warm blood. She grinned at the presentation; Chase would know exactly who stole his kills now. She’d bet they were going absolutely nuts in the Capitol over this. </p><p>The dead were starting to smell, red liquid still leaking from fatal wounds. A hovercraft would arrive soon, and Riin had no further reason to remain in the open. Shouldering her pack and her new weapons, she took off for the treeline where Victor and Briar waited for her. </p><p>____</p><p>Iden barely tasted the breakfast of tesserae grain bread and jam, barely felt the lump of the hormone pills in his throat as he swallowed them with a glass of water. Instead, his eyes were glued to the television screen in their flat, watching his sister on top of the Cornucopia, proceeding with her stupidly dangerous plan. There was too much that could go wrong, too much. <em>It’s not worth the risk!</em> he wanted to scream to her. She would never hear him if he tried. </p><p>In his peripheral, Cosima sat at the breakfast table with her own meal. Iden had barely noticed her arrival either; he’d been worked up the entire morning about potentially having to watch his sister die on live television today. </p><p>At least it was a Saturday, and he didn’t have to worry about trying (and failing) to put an effort into school right now. Little things.</p><p>His mother was still at work - they always needed her; why couldn't they understand that her family needed her too? - but his father was let off from the seamster’s shop for the weekend. He appeared in the kitchen now, bustling around the cabinets and distracting Iden from the screen for a split second. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he watching? Didn’t he care about Riin?</p><p>“Iden, have you seen the — oh, hello Cosima — have you seen the embroidery threads?” </p><p>Iden’s full attention was on his father now. The man was holding a blank strip of cloth, dyed indigo. “Embroidery threads? For what?” He didn’t really need to ask, daring his father to say it out loud. Iden felt a fury boiling in his stomach, but his voice was even, like the calm before a storm. His father gave him a helpless look. </p><p>“Son, you have to stop throwing them away.”</p><p>Iden pointedly looked away from his father. Back on the screen, Riin dropped her parachute from the mouth of the Cornucopia. </p><p>“Please, Iden. We can’t afford to be wasteful, these threads aren’t cheap-“</p><p>“Is that all you care about?” Iden spat, rising from his chair. Across from him, Cosima pointedly lowered her head, lips pressed into a thin line. </p><p>His father’s eyes flashed with hurt. “Of course not! Why would you say that?”</p><p>“You and Mom wrote her off the minute she was reaped!” Iden couldn't stop himself. “Even she could tell!”</p><p>“What has gotten into you, young man?” His father’s voice was raised now too. </p><p>Iden scoffed. “Is it really not obvious?”</p><p>“Son, I-“</p><p>“If you want to work on that so badly—“ Iden gestured towards the blank banner cloth in his father’s hand, “—go help the Taylors.”</p><p>His father’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to respond, but Cosima interrupted with a polite cough. “Um. Iden, Mr. Kres, look at the—“</p><p>Iden turned his eyes to the screen just in time to see Riin slit the District One girl’s throat. The argument died on his lips. </p><p>His sister continued, methodically drawing her knife across the necks of the Career tributes. Riin’s movements were sure, bringing back the memory of her stabbing the spider on his bed on reaping day. The sharp glint of malice in her eyes, however, was wholly unfamiliar, and it made his blood run cold. </p><p>He couldn’t look away. In fact, he belatedly realized that he’d moved closer to the screen, as close as he could while keeping the whole scene in view. He didn’t know how to process the turn of events, finding it hard to keep up as Riin tied the ribbon around the District Two boy’s partially-severed neck. Her token, her last piece of home. She disappeared into the woods, leaving behind a heavy silence that permeated through the screen into the flat.</p><p>This was different, bone-deep different, than watching Riin kill that boy from Eleven.</p><p> In his peripheral, Iden saw Cosima’s hand clasped around her mouth, eyes wide with horror. A door slammed loudly as his father disappeared into the bathroom, though it wasn't enough to mask the sounds of retching. On the floor, the indigo banner lay crumpled in a heap, forgotten. </p><p> But Iden… Iden had already made the decision not to care. He knew what this meant, for Riin and her odds. Biting his lip, Iden dared to taste the hope that threatened to tear its way through his chest. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Summary: </p><p>The Head Gamemaker watches Riin and Chase simultaneously; Riin is mixing a poison and Chase is preparing to go hunting. Killian ponders whether or not to let Riin go through with her poison plan. He decides to let her based on the conclusion that if she gets caught by Chase, he would torture her, which it would make the Hunger Games more entertaining. </p><p>Once Chase runs off, Riin crawls on top of the Cornucopia and drops a parachute containing poison down to the Career pack. Thinking it’s a sponsor gift, the six Careers drink it, and are soon immobilized by the poison. Riin shows herself and loots their camp. The Careers express their desire to kill her, but cannot. Riin decides to kill them with her new knives instead of letting the poison do it. She leaves her indigo sash with the bodies so Chase will know she was there, and then flees the scene.</p><p>Iden is watching the beginning of the previous scene with Cosima. His father appears, and they begin to argue about embroidery threads for Riin’s memorial banner, which Iden has been throwing away. Cosima interrupts them when Riin starts killing people. Iden’s father runs away, and Cosima is horrified. Iden is hopeful that Riin will make it back home.<br/>____<br/>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D3M (Chase)<br/>2. D6F (Briar)<br/>3. D8F (Riin)<br/>4. D11F (Mira)<br/>5. D13M (Victor)<br/>____<br/>Someone really went off the deep end there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. No Return</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/yOgyv7TZF9c">The Violence</a> by Aesthetic Perfection</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>It didn’t take long for Riin to find her allies. Both tributes had watched the plan unfold from the concealment of the undergrowth, out of sight of the Cornucopia, but easily spotted as she drew closer. She wasn’t sure how much they’d seen; Riin remembered watching the Bloodbath from a similar distance, and she hadn’t been able to make out much. </p><p>Apparently they’d seen less than she expected — both pairs of eyes widened in shock at Riin’s blood-soaked appearance, and Victor covered his mouth with a hand. </p><p>“I thought you were poisoning them,” Briar said, her tone and expression slightly put off. </p><p>Riin raised an eyebrow. “I did.”</p><p>Briar’s eyes traced over the bloodstains marring Riin’s face, her clothes, the knife still in her hands. “...Okay.”</p><p>“They were sitting there helpless,” Riin said with a shrug. “I couldn’t resist.” These Games were rather fun when she was winning.</p><p>Though maybe she had admitted too much; Victor was looking at her differently, and Briar’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Clearly.”</p><p>Riin looked down, inspecting her jacket, her shirt; god, it really was a mess. She replaced the knife in the empty sheath on her wrist, deciding to clean up later. They needed to get moving now. She said as much, and they followed without a word, traversing deeper into the forest until they hit the river, following its snaking path in a circle around the Cornucopia. She waited for the hovercraft to swoop in, removing the bodies of her victims from the arena, but it never came. She kept watching anyway. The only reason she could conceive for the late hovercraft was the Gamemakers wanting Chase to feel the full weight of his mistake, the mutilated blood-soaked bodies of his fallen comrades a prime courier for the emotional ordeal. Admittedly, Riin wanted to see Chase’s reaction as well; she halted their progress before the tail of the Cornucopia could block their view. </p><p>Unfortunately, they were downwind of the dead; the stench of blood and newly-rotting flesh wafted over from the massacre to their position. Riin almost gagged, covering her nose and mouth with her shirt. The downside of a late hovercraft, it seemed.</p><p>“What is it?” Briar asked, irritated. Noticing the smell, she covered the lower half of her face as well. </p><p>“I’m going to watch,” Riin answered, crouching behind a bushy shrub to wait for Chase’s return. </p><p>Briar let out a long sigh, which Riin ignored. Zipping open her pack, Riin removed the set of knives she had collected, tucking them into her pocket for the moment. She handed Briar the bag stuffed with rations and goodies, and the girl’s face changed as she traded packs with Riin. </p><p>“Almost thought you were gonna leave us hanging,” she said nonchalantly, though she gratefully accepted the olive branch, ripping open a pack of nuts and tossing Victor a sleeve of crackers. He caught it, though his uneasy expression didn’t match Briar’s. The fact that Riin was still covered in blood probably didn’t help; he’d been sneaking apprehensive glances at her when he thought she hadn’t noticed. She wondered what was running through his mind now, though she imagined it was difficult for him to reconcile the ally — maybe even friend — who saved his life with the cold-blooded killer in front of him. Well, that was his problem. </p><p>Sliding the machete from her belt, she offered the handle to Victor. “Here, you can have this. You’re the only one of us that doesn’t have a weapon.”</p><p>“I don’t want it,” he answered immediately. </p><p>Riin frowned in frustration. She was trying to be nice. He wouldn’t last without a weapon when there were only five of them left. She didn’t have to offer him the blade; it was hers by right, after all. Was he really so determined to get through the Hunger Games without killing anybody? “Just take it.”</p><p>“No,” he insisted. Apparently so. </p><p>She stared at him; the defiance in his eyes was unusual. If he wanted to die pure-hearted, that was fine by her. Riin would rather not die. </p><p>But it wasn’t fine, she realized. Refusing the weapon was giving up his life, and Riin couldn’t understand why he was okay with that, insistent on it, even. And that bothered her. Why did it bother her? If she were to make it out of the arena, Victor would have to die. But it did; it bothered her that he would so willingly throw his life away. It bothered her that he looked at her with a mixture of pity and wariness, and it bothered her that he wouldn’t take the fucking weapon. “Fine,” she said coldly, tucking the machete back through her waistband. </p><p>Briar cast a sidelong glance in their direction, raising her eyebrows, but turned away without a word. </p><p>Riin’s frustrations were interrupted by a flash of movement across the Cornucopia battleground; her eyes locked on Chase’s form — it couldn’t be anyone else — as he ran in a dead sprint towards the metal horn. Upon reaching his slaughtered allies, he skidded to a stop, coughing as the stench of death presumably hit him like a rock. Riin couldn’t see his expression from this distance. A shame; she could only imagine the shock, the anger. </p><p>His silhouetted form picked its way around the camp, shoulders visibly tensed. The sword in his grip was raised, laced with enough rage to kill. Riin couldn’t tell if he spoke at all, too far away to hear any infuriated mumbling. She watched as he found Blade’s body at the mouth of the Cornucopia, inspecting the damage. It was plainly clear when he spotted the indigo ribbon around Blade’s neck; a roar of fury emanated from his mouth and he kicked the metallic wall of the Cornucopia with a resounding <em>clang.</em> </p><p><em>“Filthy murdering whore!”</em> Chase’s enraged shout carried across the field to Riin’s ears. With a merciless swing of his sword, he cleaved Blade’s lifeless head from its shoulders, his own bobbing as he panted heavily. Blade’s decapitated head rolled into the center of the camp, followed by a trail of ribbon; Chase kicked it away savagely. </p><p>Riin smirked at his rage. <em>Poor sportsmanship, Chase.</em> Next to her, Victor gasped in horror, covering his mouth with his hands. </p><p>“He knows it was you,” Briar murmured. </p><p>“I know,” Riin said, neither surprised nor concerned. “I tied my sash around Blade’s neck.”</p><p>Briar paused. “Blade is…?”</p><p>“The one he just mutilated,” Riin supplied, nodding towards Chase’s direction. “You’re welcome.” She was sure Briar would appreciate Riin shouldering the blame for this one. The girl chuckled in agreement. </p><p>“This is horrible,” Victor moaned. “I want to go home.”</p><p>Riin scoffed. “Don’t we all?”</p><p>He let out a low noise of displeasure in response. Riin turned her attention back to Chase, who had started shoving things into a pack furiously. She watched as he grabbed as many weapons as he could carry: a pair of spears, Two’s quiver of arrows, another sword for his belt. Then he ran off in the direction of the river where Riin had first gone when the starting gong went off, murder in his stride. </p><p>“Well, that was fun,” Briar said casually, handing Riin back her bag. Riin switched out her things into the extra pack — the Widow venom, the needle and thread, the matches, her sash, the iodine — and handed it to Victor. It still contained the sleeping bag, twine, and gauze; Victor took the bag without a word. </p><p>“We should move again,” Riin said. “Somewhere —“</p><p>“Somewhere that doesn’t smell like death?” There was a wry edge to Briar’s voice. </p><p>They continue along their previous route, keeping an eye out for any other tributes, which, aside from Chase, was just them and Mira now. Five left, thanks to Riin. Currently, their group outnumbered Mira and Chase, both now on their own. She wondered how Briar and Victor felt about this; the thought made Riin’s bones tingle in anticipation. She was so close it almost seemed possible. </p><p>A shadow flickered above the trees and Riin looked up to see a hovercraft finally glide towards the Cornucopia, snatching the fallen into its belly with metal talons. Its arm lowered seven times, twice for poor Blade. </p><p>Riin, Briar, and Victor trudged along. The stench began to dissipate; Riin was sure it would still be present at the field around the Cornucopia, but for the moment, they were in the clear of that particular torture. Ahead of them, the woods were beginning to thin as the river fed its way into the lake. Riin didn’t particularly wish to be out in the open. Neither did Briar, and they stopped at the same time, staying within the cover of the trees.</p><p>“I say we cross the river again,” Riin said. It would be nice to get the dried blood out of her skin. “It’s the safest place we can be for now.”</p><p>“Well, great,” Briar said sarcastically. “Now some river mutt’s gonna jump out and kill us all.”</p><p>Riin rolled her eyes. “Let’s hope they’ve had enough excitement for the day.” She scanned for the narrowest part of the river in their vicinity; its breadth had widened upon nearing the lake, and the last thing Riin wanted was to get dragged out into open water. Here, however, the riverbank sloped gently into the water, a handful of smooth rocks poking their noses above the current. Riin removed her shoes and socks, keeping her pack above her head as she forged through the water, which, thankfully, never rose above her stomach. Reaching the other side, Riin laid her pack on the dry ground while she remained in the water, removing her jacket to scrub the bloodstains from the fabric. Victor and Briar had emerged on the opposite bank by the time Riin finished cleaning her face and weapons. </p><p>Once out of the river, she rested in a patch of sunlight, letting the warm rays dry her clothes as she took inventory of her bag and her new weapons, laying each blade out in the dirt in front of her. Eight knives, including the two in her wrist bracers, and one short-bladed machete. Enough throwing knives for her to feel comfortable with the possibility of losing some. This was the greatest number of weapons she’d had since entering the arena, or ever, really. </p><p>The feeling of relief and security that came with the possession of these knives was rather new as well. She hadn’t expected the undercurrent of panic after losing her previous knife to affect her so distinctly, but she was eternally glad the feeling was gone. However, getting lulled into a state of relaxation would be a fatal mistake. </p><p>Remembering the other weapon in her bag, Riin pulled out the bottle of Widow venom, inspecting the gory contents. The container was almost empty, having been used for her plot against the Careers. Unscrewing the lid, she picked up one of her throwing knives and dipped it into the bottle, tilting the container to allow the viscous venom to coat the blade. She did so for the rest of her knives, and the machete as well, tucking the latter through her belt when she was finished. Replacing the vial back into her bag, Riin looked up to see Victor and Briar watching her intently. </p><p>Briar’s eyes were narrowed, probably wondering if she’d end up on the wrong side of one of Riin’s knives. It was a possibility; there were five of them left after all. Riin wasn’t sure how long their alliance would last, and nobody seemed eager to bring it up. </p><p>Victor looked uneasy, and Riin was willing to bet he didn’t like the thought of anyone else experiencing the intense agony of Widow venom. That was too bad; Riin needed every advantage she could get.</p><p>Neither of them said anything, though. Looking up, Riin noticed the gleaming white of a parachute floating down to join them; opening the package, she saw that it contained a multitude of sandwiches, straight from the Capitol. </p><p>Or were they? Riin threw a hand in front of Victor’s chest to halt him from reaching for the food. She wouldn’t put it past Chase to use her trick. </p><p>She wasn’t fast enough to stop Briar, who’d taken a bite of a sandwich before catching Riin’s reaction. Briar froze, but when she didn’t drop dead after a half hour, they concluded that the gift was, in fact, a gift.</p><p>Taking a turkey and cheese sandwich for herself, Riin opened up her bag, tossing her allies a handful of ration packets for good measure. She figured she’d grabbed enough to easily last the rest of the Games, especially now with their sponsor gift; once it got down to five, nobody had much time left in the arena one way or another. Finishing off her sandwich, Riin turned her attention back to her knives, wondering how to store the array of blades where she could easily access them in a pinch. She didn’t want to make the mistake of accidentally cutting herself on the poison-tipped edge, either. Belatedly, she realized she should’ve grabbed a larger sheath from Nova while she had the chance. </p><p>She gnawed on another sandwich thoughtfully. Oriel’s jacket was still in her possession; she had a needle and thread and some leftover parachute cloth. She should be able to fashion herself a sheath large enough to hold the six blades that couldn’t fit in her wrists. Back at the training center, she had seen a knife sheath that could be wrapped around the user’s leg; that seemed easy enough to make. Finishing off the rest of her meal, Riin got to work measuring out the approximate lengths of fabric she’d need from the jacket, holding it against the six knives laid out on the ground for comparison, and then around her leg. She spent the rest of the daylight on her project as Briar and Victor made camp for the night, disappearing into the trees to set up some hunting snares around their location. Fresh meat beat oatmeal bars any day, and there were only a couple sandwiches left. Riin kept them in her peripheral as she worked, senses alert in case either of them tried to make a move on her. </p><p>They didn’t, to Riin’s relief, appearing back in the clearing as twilight and cooler temperatures began to set in. Soon, the darkness had become too thick for Riin to keep sewing, and she placed the almost-finished sheath in her bag along with the six knives, content with the machete on her belt and the two on her wrists for the night. Briefly, she hoped she wouldn’t regret shredding the extra jacket. </p><p>The arena lit up with the seal of Panem as the anthem began to play, flashing the faces of the six Career tributes that Riin had slaughtered. </p><p>Five tributes left, and so early in the Games, too. They’d blown right past the final eight in one go. Riin wondered how they were making out with three fewer families to interview back at the Capitol. Hell, they were probably interviewing her family soon enough; what would they say about her now? Were they proud of her for making it this far? Or were they horrified — disgusted, even — by her actions? No use contemplating that, it didn’t matter now. </p><p>Would they interview anyone else? Riin couldn’t think of who; she didn’t have any close friends back home, really. At least, nobody who’d been willing to wish her goodbye. Briar and Victor were honestly the closest Riin had to friends. She cut that thought off immediately, as any combination of the trio were likely to die by the others’ hands. </p><p>Despite themselves, the three of them huddled closer together as the night grew colder. She wondered who the Capitol would interview on their ends, and said as much out loud. </p><p>“They’ll have a hard time picking between my family members,” Victor said wistfully. “We’re all quite close; the entirety of us almost take up the whole E wing on the thirty-second sub-level.”</p><p><em>District Thirteen must be an odd place to live,</em> Riin mused, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. </p><p>Briar gave them both an odd look before answering with a shrug. “My dad, maybe. Probably my girlfriend.” </p><p>Riin raised an eyebrow. The tribute hadn’t mentioned any partners in the time Riin had known her, though neither had anybody. Not that Riin had anyone to mention.</p><p>“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Victor said, voicing Riin’s thoughts. “What’s she like? How long have you been together?”</p><p>“She’s cool,” Briar said nonchalantly, folding her arms around herself. “We started dating back at the beginning of high school. Knows her way around a Vee-Eight like nobody’s business, but I think she wants to go into hovercraft design.” Briar paused, glancing at Riin. “Why so curious?” </p><p>Riin shrugged in response. “We’ve been allies for a while and we hardly know anything about each other.”</p><p>Briar huffed a laugh. “What about you then? Who are they dragging on-screen in District Eight?”</p><p>Riin hesitated, suddenly regretting asking the question. She didn’t like the idea of people talking about her on television when she wasn’t there, even if it was only her parents and Iden. “Probably...just my family.”</p><p>“Your family…?” Briar prompted.</p><p>“Parents. Brother.”</p><p>“You know, if you want to sit around a campfire and gossip, you have to spill too.” The bald girl gave her a wry grin, moonlight catching on her teeth. “Heard your mom’s a pig.”</p><p>Riin shot her a glare. “She’s a Peacekeeper, yes.”</p><p>“Guess no one’s safe in the Districts,” Briar scoffed. She kicked at a rock in the dirt. “Didn’t think they even let ‘em have families.”</p><p>Riin glanced between her allies; she couldn’t see either of their expressions. “Privilege of serving more than the required twenty years.” That’s what her mother had always said, anyways.</p><p>Briar grimaced in faux pity. “God, how do you sleep at night?” </p><p>“Easy,” Riin shrugged. “I just think of all the people I’ve murdered, and then I sleep like a baby.” </p><p>That got a sharp, mirthless laugh out of the bald girl. “Fucking psycho.”</p><p>Unsettled by her quip, Victor turned his head to stare directly at her, attempting to study her face in the darkness. Riin bit her lip, wary at his sudden scrutiny. <em>That’s it, I’m never telling a joke ever again.</em> “Speaking of,” she said, “I’m going to sleep. I’m exhausted.”</p><p>“Probably the murder,” Briar supplied, pulling the sleeping bag out of her pack. Victor shifted uncomfortably between them, his displeasure evident. </p><p>“Look, if you have a problem —“</p><p>“I really don’t,” Briar said bluntly. “A little less fun the way you did it, but I can’t say I don’t appreciate it.” She pulled the hood of her jacket around her bare crown, tightening the elastic around its hem to keep the warmth in. </p><p>“I think we can all fit under that,” Victor said awkwardly, pointing at the blanket and doing his best to ease the tension. </p><p>Briar passed him the blanket as they situated themselves within the clearing. Riin would’ve preferred the cover of a leafy bush, but Victor had offered the blanket, and she would hardly pass that up; the night would only get colder. She scooted closer to him and the warmth his body provided, glad to have him separating her and Briar. Riin was wary of the aggressive girl, and while it wasn’t quite Briar’s style to slit their throats in the dead of night, Riin wasn’t pleased to have her unconscious body in the girl’s close vicinity. </p><p>Despite her earlier wish to sleep, Riin took the first watch, laying awake uneasily for a while after she heard both her allies’ breathing fall into an even rhythm. Part of her debated whether or not to kill them as they slept, to hell with the hypocrisy of her train of thought. She’d kill Briar first; Riin knew the girl could easily crush her in an honest fight. Victor was easy prey; too trusting and kind. Probably wouldn’t even be able to react before Riin could strike. </p><p>She should do it, and yet she didn’t. Logically, her chances against Chase and Mira were much worse than against Briar and Victor. At least, that’s what she told herself. Reluctance at acting against her allies was deadly at this point. </p><p>Either way, she trusted Victor more than Briar not to share her debates on killing his allies in their sleep, and it was him that she woke for the second watch. Still, though, she had trouble giving herself up to unconsciousness.</p><p>Thoughts of knives and friends kept her up, and dreams of knives and enemies invaded her sleep. </p><p>____</p><p>
  <em>Riin found herself back at the Cornucopia, bathing the ground scarlet with the point of her knife. Her footsteps made wet, squelching noises as she padded through dark red puddles, much more than last time. Her next victim sat in front of her on his hands and knees, skin and clothes stained red from contact with the ground. Blade looked up upon her approach, desperation in the whites of his eyes, the hunch of his back, and this time, Riin let him beg a little longer. </em>
</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D3M (Chase)<br/>2. D6F (Briar)<br/>3. D8F (Riin)<br/>4. D11F (Mira)<br/>5. D13M (Victor)<br/>____<br/>Riin’s got some pretty whack dreams :| Also, maybe not the best idea to joke about murder on the same day that you literally murdered 6 people Riin, smh.. people will think you’re not joking</p><p>Chase: you whore!<br/>Briar: lol Riin that’s u</p><p>My brain seems to be stuck in story-mode thanks to this fic.. which is nice, but I really need it to switch to math-mode so I can do my homework ): please excuse me while I entertain the thought of actually writing out the 5+ POV hunger games stories and additional side plots that would end up following this one..</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. (Not) A Fair Fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: This chapter contains very graphic depictions of violence and scenes containing psychological abuse/manipulation. There might be other terms that are applicable, but I am not a psychologist, so please be warned. If you are uncomfortable with reading any of that, I have written a short non-detailed summary in the notes at the end of the chapter like last time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/WjQM-AkCAo8">I Come With Knives</a> by IAMX</p><p>
  <em>Adrenaline to rewire my mind<br/>I’m only human, I come with knives</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I never promised you an open heart or charity<br/>I never wanted to abuse your imagination</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I come with knives<br/>I come with knives<br/>And agony</em>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>The Capitolites and their camera crews arrived before Cosima did; Iden was only awake to receive the new guests because he hadn’t slept a wink the night before. There was too much to think about. </p><p>His sister, in the final five. His sister, murdering six people in cold blood. His sister, almost unrecognizable now, and yet frighteningly familiar. His sister, who might actually have a chance at coming home now. </p><p>Hoping was dangerous. But he couldn’t help it. </p><p>One of the Capitolites coughed politely, and Iden blinked out of his stupor. He was still standing in the doorway, lost in thought and staring straight past them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping aside to let the leader and her entourage through. </p><p>Oh, he recognized this one: Scilla Draxas, the District Eight escort. With her harsh metallic skin and sharp silvery hair, how could he not? </p><p>Following in her wake bumbled a colorful mass of creatures, flitting like butterflies into the flat despite the heavy-looking equipment and bags some of them carried. Iden has a feeling he knew what this was about. </p><p>Roused by the commotion, Iden’s parents appeared from their bedroom in dressing robes. “Iden? What’s going on?” his mother asked, becoming ever more alert to the new guests. </p><p>“Interviews,” Iden said flatly. </p><p>His mother pursed her lips. “What time is it?” </p><p>Iden shrugged. Early. Still dark. Too early, if Cosima wasn’t here yet. </p><p>After shoving Iden into his best suit and tie (the indigo one, of course), they spent a surprisingly long amount of time powdering his face with various types of makeup. The woman holding the brush, a strangely iridescent Capitolite named Dua, said it was to bring out his ‘natural glow.’ Iden hardly noticed, his eyes focused on the television in the sitting room, where Riin and her allies were beginning to wake. “There, that’s perfect! It’s amazing how you and your sister have such clear skin, with all this smog and everything,” the woman said disdainfully.</p><p>Iden’s head snapped towards her. “You know my sister?”</p><p>A man with green hair and strangely pointed ears poked his nose into the conversation. “Well, of course! We’re her prep team, after all,” he said with a laugh, as if it were obvious.</p><p>Iden didn’t know if he should be angry at them or thankful. </p><p>Before he could say anything, the door buzzer went off. Scilla opened it, and immediately the prep team’s attention flitted to the newcomer, all sunshine and rainbows. </p><p>“My goodness, who is this <em>lovely</em> young lady?”</p><p>“You’re here for the Kres’s, right? We <em>must</em> get you on a camera, immediately!”</p><p>Well, there was no doubt who that could be. <em>Cosima.</em> Iden rolled his eyes. </p><p>She really blended well with them, graciously accepting their gushing compliments and returning them in kind; personally, Iden thought she went a bit overboard. </p><p>One of them asked her about the pale pink rose that accompanied her presence. “Oh, this?” Cosima said sweetly. “I brought it for the Kres’s; the pink symbolizes gratitude and sympathy. I thought it would be appropriate because of — because of yesterday. While we sympathize for the families of the lost tributes, we’re grateful for their sacrifice because it means Riin is that much closer to coming home.”</p><p>Iden snorted a laugh at that; thankfully it was drowned out by the coos and gasps of the prep team. </p><p>“Oh! My heart!”</p><p>“What an angel!”</p><p>“Please tell me you got that.”</p><p>“Of course I did; what am I, an amateur?”</p><p> Iden glared at the cameraman who’d spoken; she turned sheepish under his scrutiny. </p><p>The interviews began after that; Scilla informed them that they’d be longer than usual, as there were three fewer tributes to interview this go-around. However, the time they spent with Iden’s parents felt fairly short, at least from his point of view. The camera crew had just barely introduced Sargeant Valdora and Hanada Kres, asking mostly about the former’s job, and already, they switched focus to him. “Okay, tell us, Iden; how did you feel when your sister was reaped?”</p><p>He answered honestly. “Um. Shocked at first. She only had her name in there three times; I thought I’d heard them wrong.” </p><p>“But you didn’t!” the interviewer said excitedly. <em>Yeah, thanks for reminding me.</em> </p><p>A couple of minutes were spent questioning him about the events of the Games, which Iden also tried to answer honestly, but came across as flat and uninteresting; the interviewer seemed annoyed that he couldn’t come up with anything more in-depth than “They just need to die so my sister can come home” when asked about Riin’s allies. He’d probably have something better if he hadn’t been keeping himself up all night from stress these past weeks. Iden was pretty sure Riin got more sleep than he did these days.</p><p>“Great; now, Cosima, darling, can you tell us more about these flowers you bring to the Kres’s every day?”</p><p><em>They’ve got to be kidding.</em> </p><p>“Why, of course!” Cosima fluffed her shoulder-length golden curls before launching into an in-depth description of every damn rose she’d ever bought. </p><p>They spent <em>hours</em> with her; Iden and his parents were barely a passing thought in their vapid little minds. Iden ground his teeth. She wasn’t even family. She wasn’t even a <em>friend,</em> for fuck’s sake. She just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and now the Capitolites were practically tripping over themselves to invite her into their god-forsaken city. Was that even allowed? </p><p>Why had she brought the roses in the first place? She didn’t care about Riin. She never had. Is this what she wanted all along, her pretty little face on the silver screen? </p><p>Iden was being paranoid, he knew. There was no way to predict that Riin would make it as far as she did; no way to predict that she’d make it to the interview stage. </p><p>There were more important things to worry about, anyways. Namely, the fact that his sister was still trapped in the government-enforced death pageant with three equally-vicious tributes out for her blood, alliances be damned (Iden didn’t count the Thirteen boy; the fact that he’d even made it this far was obviously a mistake).</p><p>Absently, he glanced back to where the prep team was touching up Cosima’s already-perfect makeup, wondering how the girl would react if Riin actually did manage to come home. </p><p>____</p><p>Riin spent the rest of the morning finishing up the stitches for her sheath. It wasn’t perfect by any means — she would’ve liked to use a thicker fabric, like the material their packs were made from — but it did the job. Looping a ribbon cut from parachute cloth through the fabric, Riin secured it to her leg, testing out its use by drawing and throwing the knives at a thick tree trunk, far enough away from her allies not to alarm them.</p><p>It felt like forever since Riin had last been able to practice this particular skill, and it showed. </p><p>Roused by the uneven sound of knives striking wood, or maybe just his own internal clock, Victor woke from his slumber, nudging Briar awake as well. They disappeared to check the snares Victor had set up yesterday, returning empty-handed, the twine presumably replaced in one of their bags. </p><p>Unfortunate, but not the end of the world. Riin retrieved her knives, storing them in her homemade sheath and passed out the rest of the sandwiches. There were still plenty of rations, and Riin weighed the options of dividing the rest that remained in her bag between the three of them before deciding against it, wondering if — or when — either of them would object to her controlling the food source. Well, she had acquired it, after all. </p><p>“Thank you, Riin,” Victor said earnestly, breaking the morning's silence and taking a bite from a sandwich. He paused to chew before continuing. “I know it’s getting close to the end, but I’m glad to have you both as allies, and… as friends.” He looked a bit sheepish, aware of the cheesiness of his comment.</p><p>Riin felt an odd emotion in her chest, and she bit her lip to dispel the feeling, despite the fact that a similar thought had crossed her mind yesterday. Nobody had ever openly referred to Riin as a friend before; briefly, Riin remembered her interview with Marcus Argentus, saying that she hadn’t come to make friends. And yet, here she was, like some dumb, impressionable schoolgirl, finding friends in the worst of places. Apparently life or death was what it took for Riin to ‘break out of her shell,’ as her mother called it. Bratty little Cosima Herkimer had nothing on the Capitol.</p><p>And what a poor friend she’d been, debating with herself every other hour whether or not to murder them. Riin felt an unexpected stab of discomfort, glad neither of them could read her thoughts. </p><p>Briar barked a laugh. “You’re only saying that ‘cus we saved your ass.”</p><p>“I am not!” Victor cried indignantly. “I mean it. I’d rather be here with you two than anybody else.”</p><p>“That’s...really sweet, Victor,” Riin said, unable to keep the awkward emotion from her tone. </p><p>“Look at you, getting all mushy,” Briar jibed.</p><p>Riin shot her a half-hearted glare, rolling her eyes at the girl’s teasing tone. “Please. You act like we’ve never saved your ass before.” Upon finishing her breakfast, Riin removed the venom bottle from her bag and began coating her knives in a fresh layer of poison. </p><p>“Yeah, well, speaking of,” Briar said, her tone shifting, “We’ve got to make some tough decisions soon. Since there’s only five of us left.”</p><p>Their alliance. <em>Someone had to bring it up sometime,</em> Riin thought. She was glad Briar did it with her words rather than her mace. Victor looked uncomfortable at the thought, and Riin couldn’t blame him. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to trust their alliance, but she’d rather be together than on her own at this point. “I say we stay together.”</p><p>“I agree,” Victor said quickly. </p><p>“It would be easier to hunt down the others in a group,” Riin said, thinking out loud.</p><p>Victor’s head snapped toward her in disbelief. “What?”</p><p>“It’s either that or let the Gamemakers bring us together, and that usually involves mutts.”</p><p>Briar nodded thoughtfully. “Who should we find first?”</p><p>“Wait, no, I didn’t agree to this!”</p><p>Riin ignored Victor’s protests. “Chase went off towards the river yesterday, back near where we saw the Widows,” she mused. “I haven’t seen Mira in the arena yet, but I have a feeling she ended up on that island in the lake.” </p><p>“No, leave her alone!”</p><p>Briar shouldered her pack, laying her morningstar across her lap to fiddle with the spikes. “How’d you figure that? I didn’t think anybody would be able to get over there.”</p><p>“Riin, Briar, please —“</p><p>“I remember seeing a boat at the docks a couple days after the Games started. Don’t know if she’d still be over there, though.”</p><p>“Guys —“</p><p>“Hm, maybe Chase’ll get to her before we can —“</p><p><em>“You guys!”</em> </p><p>The panicked whisper in Victor’s voice made both Riin and Briar’s heads snap in his direction. His wide eyes were focused on something beyond them; a low, inhuman growl emanated from behind herself and Briar, far too close for comfort. </p><p>Slowly, Riin turned around to face the new danger, reaching for the knife at her wrist as she came face-to-face with the biggest catlike creature she’d ever seen. Pointed ears pressed flat against its head as it slid into a crouch, thick muscles rippling beneath its tawny coat; it bared its fangs at the trio, two of which protruded down from its jaw like bone-colored knives, easily longer than her forearm. Even on four legs, it towered over Riin and her allies, certain death lurking between its jaws. </p><p>Apparently, Aquila and his Gamemakers had gotten tired of them sitting on their asses. The knife-toothed cat growled again, deep within its throat, and the trio took that as their cue to get the hell out of there, flying through the trees at breakneck speed. </p><p><em>At least this time I don’t have to carry anyone,</em> Riin thought with a grimace. Though, pushing someone into the mutt’s way would probably distract it long enough for her to get away. </p><p>Both of her allies were too far out of reach, however, and Riin needed to focus on not tripping over tree roots, and maybe figure out where the hell the Gamemakers were taking them. Heart racing in her throat, Riin leapt over low-growing bushes and swerved around trees, barely managing to keep her footing. Clumps of thorns ripped at her clothes and skin as she raced past, her allies visible in and out of the blurry green of trees and bushes as flashes of moving color. </p><p>The vicious snarls of the cat in pursuit sent chills down Riin’s spine, and she barely noticed the forest beginning to thin as the beast chased them towards the lake. Glimpsing sparkling sunlight through the undergrowth, Riin felt a sense of dread wash over her. <em>It’s going to corner us.</em></p><p>Riin angled along the incoming shoreline as they approached, heading away from the Cornucopia, and Briar and Victor followed suit, neither eager to go for a swim. They burst through the treeline, slipping along the suddenly rocky beach as they sprinted parallel to the water. </p><p>Without the cover of the forest, Riin could see a lot farther ahead; she almost froze at the sight of two figures heading straight for them, fast as bullets. The first was clearly human — a tribute — and Riin drew the other knife from her wrist, armed in both fists. Behind the tribute was another mutt, a second knife-toothed cat slavering in pursuit of its prey. Riin recognized Mira’s flowing dark hair as they drew closer; she carried a ferocious-looking spear in her hands and an equally dangerous snarl on her face. </p><p>Briar hissed a curse to her left, hefting her mace. She and Riin flanked their quickly-approaching company on either side, shifting Victor out of the angle of danger and forcing Mira straight into the oncoming path of their mutt. </p><p>The girl did so bravely, shooting Riin a brief, vicious glare as she raised the spear between herself and the cat. The mutt ran headlong into the metal point, and Mira nimbly dodged its slashing teeth, sliding between its legs as she dragged the spear along its belly, blood and guts pouring from the wound while it howled in pain. </p><p>The second mutt roared at the death of its partner; Briar swung her mace as she flew past, but the animal dodged, turning on her. Riin flung a knife at its neck, missing her target when it moved, and the blade instead buried itself into the mutt’s back leg. Aside from a growl, it ignored the injury, snapping at the space where Briar’s head had been a heartbeat ago. Victor’s cry of alarm mixed with Briar’s grunt as she raised her spiked weapon, bracing for another attack. </p><p>Riin caught a flash of motion in her peripheral; fortunately, the cat had a harder time ignoring a spear through its brain, letting out a whimper of surprise as it died on the spot. She turned around to see Mira still poised from throwing her weapon, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. </p><p>“Mira,” Victor called breathlessly. She snapped toward him, recognition in her features, and maybe a little guilt at deserting him at the beginning of the Games. “You saved us. Thank you.”</p><p>“Don’t waste your breath,” Mira said tersely. “Now just…let me grab my spear, and we’ll call it even.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Riin and Briar exchanged a glance, panting breathlessly through the tension still thick in the air. Four tributes in one place; there was no scenario where they all walked out alive. Riin drew another knife, and Briar twirled her morningstar. “I don’t think so,” the bald tribute said, the hint of a smirk on her face. </p><p>A brief flash of fear crossed Mira’s features, quickly replaced by incredulous anger. “Are you kidding me?”</p><p>Victor looked between them in confusion. “Wait, what? You—“ </p><p>Mira cut him off with a hiss. “At least give me the spear so we can have a fair fight,” she said, attempting to negotiate. </p><p>“Do we look like we want a fair fight?” Riin said scathingly, and Mira scowled in disgust. </p><p>“Riin, you can’t—!”</p><p>Riin didn’t let Victor finish; she and Briar moved at the same time, closing their distance by a couple feet before Mira wised up, turning tail and taking off towards the forest in a dead sprint. They left Victor’s cries of protest behind, chasing now instead of running. Excitement lanced through Riin’s muscles, lending her extra speed and adrenaline — she much preferred this end of the hunt. </p><p>She followed hot on Mira’s trail, the older girl’s back visible through the flashing trees. Riin sent a poisoned blade flying towards her target; the knife missed, disappearing into the undergrowth and Riin threw two more, aiming for her head. A cry of pain, but the girl kept running. Riin couldn’t tell where she hit her, but the wound wasn’t fatal. <em>Not yet, at least,</em> she thought with a grin. Mira wouldn’t be able to get too far once the poison began to spread. “I got her!”</p><p>Briar whooped in response and they slowed slightly, following Mira’s clear path through the crushed ferns. The change in pace allowed Victor to catch up with them, his approaching cries growing louder. “Wait, stop!” They kept moving, following the trail of their quarry as Victor stumbled behind them. “Wh-what are you <em>doing?”</em></p><p>“We’ve almost got her,” Briar crowed, eagerness in her tone. The sound of the injured tribute crashing through the forest grew louder, and Riin and Briar picked up their pace again, a shiver tracing itself down Riin’s spine for the second time that day.  </p><p>“No, wait,” Victor pleaded, chasing after them. </p><p>They ignored him, breaking through the trees again as they came to the riverbank. Far ahead of them, Riin caught a glimpse of Mira staggering into the river; she slipped on the pebbled shore, disappearing under the water with a loud splash. “There!”</p><p>Mira’s head broke the surface as she found her footing, whipping around frantically upon hearing Riin’s shout. She struck out for the opposite bank in a flurry of arms and legs, stumbling as her feet pushed against the bottom of the river. Her arms flailed through the water, and she attempted to half-run half-swim against the waist-deep current, her gasping and coughing audible to Riin’s ears as she drew closer. Based on Mira’s twisted grimace, the poison had begun to take effect; she wouldn’t get away now. </p><p>“Let her go, <em>please!”</em></p><p>Riin barely heard Victor as she waded into the water, downstream from the struggling tribute. Mira was standing now, hunched over and clutching at her shoulder, leaking rivulets of blood into the stream. In the corner of Riin’s eye, she saw Briar jog up along the riverbank, pausing a couple feet from Mira’s position. “You’re time’s up, Eleven.”</p><p>“Hardly,” Mira spat. </p><p>“Oh, you’ve got no idea what she puts on those knives,” Briar said with a nasty grin. “You’ll be begging us to kill you soon enough.”</p><p>“Stop! This isn’t fair!” Victor slowed to a halt on the bank next to Briar, attempting to block her, but she just swatted him away. </p><p>Riin drew another blade, and Mira eyed her movements warily, her breath coming in hisses as she began to realize the full meaning of Briar’s words. Briefly, Riin registered Victor’s pleading for them to stop as he pulled at Briar’s jacket; the noise faded into the background as her attention focused on their soon-to-be victim. </p><p>“Get her out of the water,” Briar snapped, pushing away Victor’s clinging hands, and Riin nodded, never breaking eye contact with Mira. She moved through the current to the poisoned tribute, energy buzzing in her brain as the water swirled around her knees. She could throw the knife, injecting more venom into Mira’s body if she hit her target, though Mira was no doubt running solely on adrenaline now; nothing short of an instant kill hit would stop her from using the knife on Riin. Too risky. </p><p>Waiting for Mira to pass out from the pain would take too long, too boring for the viewers in the Capitol. “Briar, help me.”</p><p>The other girl slid into the water with minimal hesitance, trapping Mira between them. “Stop it, stop!” Poor Victor’s voice had broken into sobs now, but Riin and Briar had made up their minds. The cornered tribute backed away, aiming for the opposite riverbank; Riin and Briar surged forwards, too fast for Mira to escape. She slipped, falling backwards under the current, and Riin lunged for her foot, still clutching the knife in her grip. Clumsily, she shoved the handle between her teeth, freeing both hands to get a more solid grip on Mira’s boot. Briar grabbed the girl’s other foot, and they managed to drag her flailing, writhing body back into the shallows before Riin got a boot to the face, knocking the knife from her grasp. She cried out in surprise, and Mira wriggled her foot free of its shoe, kicking desperately at her captors. </p><p>Riin felt a warm pain bubble in her mouth as her now-split lip dripped blood onto her tongue, and she spat it out with a snarl. Fishing around the shallows, she recovered her knife, standing to find Briar elbow Mira in the jaw, knocking the girl back into the water again. Riin dove for her bare foot, slashing her knife across the tendon behind Mira’s ankle. </p><p>The girl let out a screech of agony as the shallow water around them turned scarlet, and Riin suddenly felt a strong tug at the back of her shirt, yanking her away from the screaming girl and out of the river. A pair of arms like vices wrapped around her torso, and Riin cried out, writhing and shuddering in the unfriendly grasp, slashing wildly with her knife, despite her arms being pinned. She jerked her head backwards, earning a gasp of pain as it collided with someone else’s; Victor’s, she realized with surprise. </p><p><em>“Let me go, you idiot!”</em> She strained against him, snarling and spitting as Victor pulled her away from Mira’s fallen form. His hitched breathing told her he was still crying, still begging for them to let Mira go. Riin thrashed wildly, throwing Victor off-balance and they both tumbled over backwards, Victor’s grip slackening enough for Riin to weasel out. She rolled away from him, staying low in a crouch and half-expecting him to attack. </p><p>Victor hardly noticed her, focused only on the bloody scene in front of them. <em>“Briar, no,”</em> he moaned through a fresh wave of tears; Riin could see the girl standing over Mira’s prone body, ankle-deep in the river with her vicious spiked weapon in hand. Putting a shaky arm underneath herself, Mira attempted to crawl upright; Briar halted her progress with a sharp kick to the girl’s wounded shoulder, and she whimpered in pain, barely audible over Victor’s sobs. Riin saw his hand clamped tightly over his mouth, watching as Briar brought her mace down twice over Mira’s head, crushing her skull to a pulp with a sickening crunch. </p><p>The sound of retching nearly drowned out the death cannon, and Riin’s eyes widened at the sight of Victor heaving up his breakfast. She scooted away, looking from him to Briar as she spat out a clump of congealed blood from her split lip. Briar stood triumphant over her kill, a light dusting of blood covering her front and a wild grin marring her features; it took a second for her to come back to herself and remember her allies. “Hey, we make a pretty good team, I — oh hell, what’s wrong with him?”</p><p>Victor was incoherent; he’d stopped vomiting, but was incapable of talking with a hand over his mouth still, stifling his cries. Tears poured down his cheeks, and he seemed unable to draw his eyes from Mira’s body, still leaking blood into the shallows of the river. </p><p>“Don’t think he liked...that,” Riin said, gesturing towards the fresh corpse. </p><p>“She was my <em>friend,”</em> he choked out, and violent sobs racked his body again. </p><p>Riin glared at him. “She would’ve tried to kill us, if not now then sometime later.”</p><p>Victor’s eyes flashed with anger; through his tears, he gained enough of a voice to yell at them with a ferocity she didn’t know he had. “She saved our lives from those mutts! And you <em>murdered</em> her! How could you <em>do</em> that?” He didn’t even bother trying to stem the flow of tears, glaring at Riin and Briar with a righteous fury. </p><p>Riin was stunned. She hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction from her soft-hearted ally, hadn’t expected him to interfere with their kill. Not that it did Mira any good. </p><p>“Get your fucking head together, Victor,” Briar snapped. “That’s what this game <em>is.</em> You don’t want to kill anyone, but too bad. That’s how you survive.” </p><p>“I don’t care,” he spat. “I want to leave.”</p><p>A shadow appeared over the trees as the hovercraft arrived for Mira’s body, lifting her into its maw and out of the arena. </p><p>Riin waited until it disappeared to respond. “There’s only one way that happens and you know it,” she said evenly. </p><p>“No. I want to <em>leave,”</em> he insisted, shaky but determined. “I can’t-I can’t stay with you anymore.”</p><p>Riin and Briar exchanges shocked glances. Victor wouldn’t last a day on his own, and he sounded like he knew it too. The thought was more upsetting than watching Mira’s skull getting crushed, and Riin didn’t know what to make of that. </p><p>“What happened to staying together?” Briar said accusingly. “‘I’d rather be here with you guys than anyone else,’ huh? What about that?”</p><p><em>“That was before you murdered my friend!”</em> His voice cracked, and he broke Briar’s gaze, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. </p><p>“She wasn’t your friend, Victor. <em>We</em> are,” Riin corrected forcefully. There was an uncomfortable pause. “You’ll get killed by mutts, or by Chase.”</p><p>“Better than by you.”</p><p>Riin didn’t know why that made her so angry. Part of her was tempted to strike at him right then and there, but that was a quiet part; she dismissed it easily. She didn’t want to kill him, but his intentions to leave hurt. </p><p>Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice booming through the air. </p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems our time in the arena is quickly coming to an end.” </p><p>The announcer; what could they possibly want already? Had they not been providing enough entertainment? That was hard to believe; the stones on the riverbank were still wet with Mira’s blood. </p><p>“I’d like to welcome you all to a feast, beginning at noon in two day’s time. Once again, the Cornucopia will overflow with everything you need. You won’t want to pass up this opportunity.”</p><p> A cutting silence followed the words, perturbing the air even in the absence of sound. </p><p>So, that was it. Two days until what was sure to be the grand finale of the Games. With only four of them left, how could it not be? In two days, Riin could be dead. Most likely would be. She was still the youngest, still the smallest, however many people she’d killed. Chase and Briar easily had a few pounds on her, making up for what they lacked in pure muscle with skill and ferocity respectively. And Victor…</p><p>He had gone white at the announcement, glancing nervously between Riin and Briar. Riin knew he wouldn’t kill her, but she couldn’t risk an unknown at this stage of the Games. </p><p>“Stay with us until the feast.”</p><p>Victor shook his head. “I can’t-“</p><p>“You will.” Riin’s tone was non-negotiable, and Victor shrank back. </p><p>“Chase knows you’re my ally,” she continued. “You know how Careers work. If he catches you, it’ll be slow, and painful. Worse than the Widow’s bite. And if Briar and I aren’t there to help you…”</p><p>Victor lowered his head in defeat. Noble as his intentions may be, the natural fear of a drawn-out death would keep him close, at least for now. Riin counted on it. </p><p>“Come on,” Briar said, giving Victor a gentle nudge to the shoulder. “Let’s all get cleaned up.”</p><p>He refused to look at her — probably a good idea as the girl was still covered in gore — but obliged, rising shakily to his feet. His gaze remained fixed on the blood-stained riverbank as they walked; the two girls guiding him like a blind man away from the scene of the crime. Silent tears still ran down his cheeks, and Riin and Briar pretended not to notice. Briefly, they stopped at the riverbank to clean blood and grime from themselves, far upstream from the scene of Mira’s death, before continuing up the river. The longer they walked, the more Riin didn’t want to think about how this would end. </p><p>Two days. Usually feasts were announced the night before — the extra time had to mean something. Maybe the Games were going by too fast. Or, even more likely and nerve-wracking, Chase had something planned, and needed the time to complete it. The Gamemakers had obliged her scheme without interference; perhaps they wanted to see just what he could do. </p><p>Chase was clearly the more dangerous wild card than Victor, and here she was, worrying about the latter. In her mind’s eye, she could see the irony of the soft-hearted boy in the Victor’s crown, waiting on the sidelines while Riin and the others hacked each other to unmendable pieces. The possibilities flickered through Riin’s head: herself, Briar, and Chase lying prone on the ground and bleeding out from a thousand different wounds while Victor walked among them, whole, but unable to deliver a merciful kill, taunting her yet again with his name. </p><p>She refused to let that become reality, but she didn’t know what to do. Of course, she had ideas, dark thoughts in the back of her head. It had all seemed much easier back when she was discussing alliances with Janus on the train to the Capitol; it wasn’t difficult to predict what kind of ‘advice’ he might give. Suddenly, she was glad for the extra day to sort things out.</p><p>They stopped in the early evening by a shady grove close enough to the river, making camp for the rest of the night. Victor was still too vegetative to be of any use, so Riin and Briar set up the usual snares and traps, returning to their location to sit in silence until the anthem played, flicking Mira’s portrait across the arena sky. Riin thought she caught more tears sparkling on Victor’s cheeks, but he turned his head before she could be sure.</p><p>Apprehension gnawed at Riin’s stomach. No amount of time given by the Gamemakers could change the facts: if Riin wanted to get out alive, Victor had to die. </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Summary:</p><p>A Capitol camera crew arrives at Iden’s house for interviews. Cosima shows up, and they spend more time with her than the Kres’s, which pisses Iden off. </p><p>In the arena, Victor expresses that he’s glad to have Riin and Briar as allies. Briar brings up the fact that only five tributes remain now. They decide to stay together. Riin and Briar discuss hunting down the other tributes, which Victor protests.</p><p>They are interrupted by a saber-toothed tiger mutt, which chases them to the lake where they encounter Mira and another cat. Mira kills the mutts but is left without a weapon; to Victor’s dismay, Riin and Briar decide to kill Mira. They chase her into the forest, and she tries to get away in the river. Riin and Briar catch her, and Briar kills her with her mace. Victor tries to stop them by grabbing Riin and dragging her away. He is extremely upset by these events and states that he wishes to leave the alliance, which Riin does not want.</p><p>Their argument is interrupted by the announcer calling for a feast in two days. Riin states that Victor will stay with the alliance, or he will be killed slowly by Chase and references Victor’s past trauma with the spider bite as a point of comparison. Victor relents. </p><p>Riin is plagued with thoughts of Victor winning the Hunger Games and comes to the conclusion that he needs to die.</p><p>____<br/>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D3M (Chase)<br/>2. D6F (Briar)<br/>3. D8F (Riin)<br/>4. D13M (Victor)<br/>____<br/>So like.. content-wise, I’m pretty sure this is one of the most horrible things I’ve ever written. Yeah. </p><p>I’ve got a question for you guys. Is anyone actually rooting for Riin? I would not be offended if you aren’t lol.. She is the main POV character, but you’re not required to like her by any means</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Victor, Part I: Here is the Truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: This chapter has scenes containing emotional manipulation and graphic depictions of violence (maybe less so of the latter than the previous one, but still. Also, brief insinuation of suicide, if you really squint). I will include a summary at the end of the events.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/c7TRcD8iDUI">If I Had A Heart</a> by Fever Ray</p><p>
  <em>If I had a heart I could love you<br/>If I had a voice I would sing<br/>After the night when I wake up<br/>I’ll see what tomorrow brings</em>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>The following morning, the three of them were woken by the bitter chill of heavy rainfall, enough to penetrate the layer of treetops they relied on for cover. Riin was soaked through to the bone; her teeth chattered faster than her father's sewing machine, despite the jacket she had wrapped around herself. </p><p>“Fucking hell, are you kidding me? The one time it rains,” Briar grumbled, yanking the sopping wet sleeping bag from her allies. It was supposed to be waterproof, and it was — on the outside. Since they had unzipped it to cover all of them, the inside layer had gotten all wet, allowing dampness to soak into the three now-shivering tributes. The absorbent mulch of the forest floor only contributed to the problem. </p><p>“It-it’s one way to wa-wake up,” Riin said through her rattling teeth. Letting a violent shiver roll down her spine, she stood, checking her weapons inventory. Only four knives left, and the machete on her belt. <em>Shit.</em> She hadn’t even thought to go back and retrieve her knives from yesterday; there was no way she’d be able to find them again. <em>That’s the problem with throwing knives, she mused. Once you throw them, they’re gone.</em> She’d have to be more careful. Removing the bottle of spider venom from her bag, Riin gave each blade a fresh coat of poison, tucking two of them into the sheaths on each wrist. </p><p>Victor absentmindedly sorted through the contents of his pack, purposely not looking directly at either Riin or Briar. Yesterday’s events clearly still plagued his mind; his shoulders were hunched in a defeated manner, dark hair slicked to his scalp by the rain. If he had any tears left over, Riin couldn’t tell. </p><p>She left Briar with him to inspect the snares they had set up last night. None of the forest’s bounty of small creatures had been misfortunate enough to get caught for long. The last snare seemed to have been sprung, a tuft of fur caught in the twine noose, but nothing to show for it. Riin returned to her allies disappointed and empty-handed, pondering over the lost quarry. </p><p>“Anything?” Briar asked hopefully. Riin shook her head, and the girl sighed in frustration. “Could’ve used some fresh meat. I’m starving.”</p><p>Riin couldn’t disagree; her stomach growled in discontent, hardly audible over the rainfall. She pulled her bag over her shoulders, digging for the rest of the rations she had leftover from her Cornucopia raid. </p><p>Her hands found matches, the spool of thread, her miniature first aid kit, a half-full water bottle, but no ration packs. No crackers or jerky. Riin looked at her bag in surprise, shuffling through its contents again. Her bottle of venom was there, along with the iodine vial, but still no food. Biting her lip, still swollen from Mira’s boot, she cast a sidelong glance at her allies. Both seemed unconcerned with her search, and not particularly guilty, but Riin couldn’t be sure. </p><p>She <em>knew</em> she had grabbed enough food to last them; just yesterday, there had been plenty. Briar and Victor were hardly stupid enough to eat all the rations in one go, and Riin definitely would’ve noticed them trying. Unless one of them had taken it while she slept.</p><p>Riin narrowed her eyes. “Which one of you took the food?” she demanded. </p><p>Both Briar and Victor stared at her in surprise. “What?” Victor asked innocently. </p><p>She locked eyes with him, searching for a lie. “The food. It’s gone. Which one of you took it?”</p><p>Briar blinked. “It wasn’t me. Here.” She opened up her pack, removing its contents for Riin to see. She wasn’t lying; she hadn’t taken their rations. </p><p>Riin’s gaze fell on Victor, and he shifted nervously under her scrutiny. “I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”</p><p>“Bag. Now.” </p><p>He obeyed, showing the group the mostly-empty bag he had been sorting through earlier. No food. He hadn’t taken the rations either. </p><p>But then where the hell was their food? Who had stolen from her, directly under her nose? The thought made Riin uncomfortable and twitchy. </p><p>“Did you take it?” Briar asked suspiciously. Riin opened up her bag for her allies to see, showing the truth to her words. Briar’s expression turned to one of puzzlement. </p><p>Riin ran through a list of possibilities in her head. The ration packs could’ve fallen out of her bag while they chased Mira through the forest, though it seemed unlikely that all of them would disappear, or that nothing else would be missing. One of her allies could be lying, and had stored the food somewhere else while the others slept, intending to come back to it later. That seemed like too much effort for Briar, and Riin doubted Victor would’ve thought of it. There was only one other person in the arena: Chase. He could easily be following them, watching from the shadows while they argued, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Riin’s unease grew. </p><p>But why, then, had they all made it through the night? If Chase had caught them all sleeping, what had stayed his hand from slitting their throats under the cover of darkness? </p><p>There were the death cannons, which would’ve rang out like alarm bells before the last of them died, and the promise of a feast on the horizon. Was that enough?</p><p>Chase wasn’t their only enemy, Riin realized belatedly. The culprit may very well be her dear old friend Killian Aquila, the mastermind behind the Games. Hadn’t they been fighting the Gamemakers all along? Chase hadn’t sent the knife-toothed tigers after them, or the Indigo Widows, or even the poison. What a perfect way to ensure that everyone makes it to the feast hungry; why else would they announce it early? If this was the case, there was a strong possibility that Chase’s food supply was gone as well. </p><p>Remembering the snare from earlier, Riin realized that someone must’ve removed whatever it had caught, be it Chase or the Gamemakers. </p><p>Her mind jumped back to the present where her allies were staring at her while the ideas raced through her brain. Riin took a breath, shaking droplets of rain from her vision. “Okay,” she said. “Either Chase is following us and stole our food, or the Gamemakers want us to starve until the feast.” She paused to judge their reactions. Victor was frustratingly indifferent, but Briar’s head whipped around as she attempted to spot any signs of an unwelcome guest. </p><p>“Does it matter?” Victor said, despondent. “If it’s Chase, he seems to be waiting until the feast to try anything.”</p><p>He had a point, but Riin preferred to know whether or not they were being stalked by the lone Career. </p><p>“Not much we can do about it,” Briar said with a nonchalant shrug. “We won’t starve to death in a day.”</p><p>Riin’s hands clenched into fists, her teeth gnawing on her still-split lip. How could they be so determined to sit around all day when danger lurked around every corner? Riin glanced around their campsite, searching for any movement within the trees. Of course, there was plenty, thanks to the rainfall. Neither Briar nor Victor seemed inclined to search for answers; the former had pulled out her sleeping bag again, wrapping the soggy blanket around herself and Victor in an attempt to block the chill. “We could at least look for some place to stay dry,” Riin suggested. </p><p>Briar just scoffed at her. “The entire arena’s bound to be a whole flood. I doubt we’ll find anything better. Now get over here before you get sick.”</p><p>Grumbling, Riin obliged, squeezing herself between the two tributes. Briar shifted their position until they were backed against a wide tree trunk, offering slightly better shelter than the open forest. Resigning themselves to being soaked through for the rest of the day, they slid onto the ground, tucking their legs and the edges of the blanket beneath them. Luckily, the fabric had some sort of heat-reflective properties, and they managed to fight off the worst of the chill. </p><p>Due to the leaking dark clouds overhead, Riin had no concept of the passage of time, save for the ever-frequent growling of her stomach. She had no idea how long they’d been sitting there when she spotted a large white parachute floating towards them, landing gracefully in front of their feet despite the rain. </p><p>For a heartbeat, nobody moved. <em>Another gift already?</em> Then Briar tore off the blanket, making a grab for the parachute. </p><p>“Wait!” Riin hissed, throwing an arm in front of the eager girl. </p><p>“Do we have to do this every time?” Briar groaned. “They’re not gonna let anyone do the same trick again.”</p><p>Still, she waited. When the parachute didn’t explode in the next few seconds, Riin and Briar moved to investigate. Pulling off the large metal lid, Riin revealed a collection of waterproof jackets, sitting underneath a pile of beanbags. Riin picked one up curiously, startled when it almost burned her fingertips. Victor scooted over as Briar snatched a jacket, cradling a pair of warm beanbags in her cold fingers, and Riin held the lid over their prize to protect it from the rain. She offered Victor a rain jacket and a beanbag, and he took it with a mumbled “Thanks.”</p><p>Grabbing the last jacket, Riin noticed a slip of paper sitting at the bottom of the container; she tucked it into her sleeve while her companions weren’t paying attention.</p><p>“You’d think this would be more expensive than some damn food,” Briar grumbled, slipping the beanbags into her boots and pulling the jacket tightly around herself. </p><p>Riin hummed in agreement, her mind still on the unread note as she donned her jacket. Absently, she fiddled with the large container, still warm from the beanbags.  </p><p>“They’re probably not allowed to send us food,” Victor said quietly. “They want us at the feast, right? Starvation is a weapon, not a coincidence.” </p><p>He was looking directly at her; Riin felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. </p><p>Had Victor noticed her getting rid of the game their snares had caught to hide her lack of a knife, all those days ago? If so, why hadn’t he said anything? </p><p>Ignoring the increase in her heartbeat, Riin met his gaze. “That’s a good point, Victor.”</p><p>He shrugged, turning his head to stare absently at the forest floor. If he wasn’t going to dig into it, then so be it. Riin went back to playing around with the container, wondering if she could use it in any way. Pretending to fix her sleeve, Riin unfolded the note and smoothly dropped it into the container, angling the inside towards herself to stealthily read the note. </p><p>
  <em>‘Keep your mind sharp and your knife sharper.’</em>
</p><p>Riin felt the breath catch in her throat. Janus. It had to be. She was the only one with a knife. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what he wanted her to do.</p><p>Glancing furtively at her allies, Riin replaced the metal lid onto the container to hide the note, noticing an odd strap on the inside of it. The lid itself was rather large and sturdy; she flipped it over, pressing on it to test its strength, and then it hit her. </p><p>The message was twofold; Janus has sent her a shield. </p><p>Mulling over the thought, Riin slid the lid and container back into her bag, keeping quiet about her discovery. She couldn’t tell if Briar or Victor had picked up on the hidden gift, though their attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. </p><p>Remembering the bow and arrows that Chase had grabbed from the Cornucopia after her Career massacre, Riin was even more grateful for her newest gift. That had been a stupid move, leaving the weapons for Chase’s picking. Janus must be watching closely; Riin would stand a much higher chance of surviving against a ranged attack with the shield rather than attempting to dodge flying arrows. She wasn’t sure how well the lid would stand up against Briar’s morningstar, but something was better than nothing. </p><p>And then there was the note...</p><p>A loud <em>thwack</em> interrupted Riin’s train of thought; the bald tribute had decided to practice with her spiked weapon, swinging with a vengeance at some poor tree, mindless of the rain. Riin wasn’t sure if this was some kind of intimidation tactic, or if she was just bored. </p><p>Riin made up her mind to join her, choosing a different tree as a target for her knives. Neither of them made conversation as they practiced, the rain too loud and the thought of tomorrow too heavy on their minds. Victor had moved well out of the way of danger, slumped back against the trunk they had previously been using for a meager shelter. He’d wrapped the sleeping bag around himself like a cocoon in a further attempt to keep warm, watching them but not really seeing, a far-off look in his eyes. </p><p>She wanted to discuss a plan for tomorrow, if only so she’d be able to sleep through the night. If she did decide to follow through with Janus’s intentions, it would be helpful if her allies didn’t suspect as much. Either way, by this time tomorrow, she could very well be dead. Most likely would be. She didn’t want to think about that, but she did want to prepare, and she’d take any advantage she could over her current allies. After all, they wouldn’t be her allies for much longer. </p><p>Could she do what Janus wanted of her? <em>Should</em> she?</p><p>After retrieving her most recent throws — she only had the four knives; she really should’ve picked up the ones she’d thrown yesterday — she cut short her practice, plopping down next to Victor. He let her under the blanket, and they huddled together, scooting over to make room for Briar on his other side when she’d had enough of mutilating her tree. </p><p>“We should make a plan for tomorrow,” Riin said quietly. </p><p>“A plan?” Briar scoffed. “As if it’s not gonna be a bloody free-for-all.” </p><p>Between them, Victor shivered at the thought. Or the rain. </p><p>“Well, if we gang up on Chase, we’ll all have a better chance once he’s down.” Riin didn’t like the idea of taking Chase on by herself. It wasn’t a fight she could win. Janus had to know that.</p><p>Briar chuckled. “Three versus Three; I like it.”</p><p>Victor shuffled in his place. “I’m not going,” he mumbled. </p><p>“What?” Riin looked at him, frowning. “You have to.”</p><p>“Says who? What’s the worst that can happen, I’ll die?” He smiled morbidly, shaking his head. </p><p>“You could win.”</p><p>Briar’s and Victor’s surprised expressions met hers. Victor looked discomfited at the idea; had it really never occurred to him? “I don’t—“</p><p>“Maybe we'll just kill each other, and whoever’s left standing will be too wounded to go after you.”</p><p>“No, that’s not what I—“</p><p>“What if it’s one of us? What if it’s Briar or I left bleeding out on the ground… I wonder how long they’d let us lay there before they’d force you to come finish us off.”</p><p>“Please, stop.”</p><p>“What if-“</p><p>“Quit tormenting him,” Briar snapped. </p><p>Riin blinked at her. “It’s just a possibility,” she said defensively, though she didn’t continue the train of thought. </p><p>Victor wouldn’t win. And neither would Briar, not if she could help it. As much as Riin had come to regard her allies during their time in the arena, she had one priority, and that was herself. She’d already made the decision to do whatever it took to make it out alive, and unfortunately a fully trained Career stood like a nigh-unmovable mountain between herself and that goal. </p><p>
  <em>Keep your mind sharp and your knife sharper.</em>
</p><p>‘Murder your allies in their sleep.’ ‘Use your best judgement.’ ‘Be prepared.’ <em>Which one, Janus?</em></p><p>Chase was one person, and they were three. ‘Fight Chase alone’ wasn’t an option, and thus Briar and Victor must remain at her side. She <em>needed</em> her allies. If she wasn’t going to kill them, she could at least keep track of them, know where they were at all times before the final battle. </p><p>Hence why Victor’s intentions to remain behind during the feast posed a problem. Part of her wondered if she should let him wander off and get himself killed, just so she wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. But the logical — and, though she’d never admit it, sentimental — part of her refused. She would worry, she knew; the nagging image of him standing tall as the sole survivor — <em>the</em> Victor — said enough. </p><p>If Victor didn’t want to attend the feast, then fine. He wouldn’t have to. </p><p>Riin let out a sigh that turned into a rain-soaked shiver, and she huddled closer to Victor’s warmth, her mind heavy. Time passed slowly and void of conversation, and the downpour receded just as night fell. The Gamemakers were letting them have an easy night after all, at least regarding the weather; well-rested tributes meant a more entertaining showdown, she supposed. Riin doubted she’d be able to sleep a wink. </p><p>____</p><p>Eventually, Riin did manage to drift off, though not for long; her fitful sleep was broken by a sudden chill. Her eyes flicked open, struggling to resolve the shadows in the darkness. Victor had fallen asleep between herself and Briar, but he wasn’t there now. Riin felt a jolt of panic, any semblance of sleep immediately extinguished. She heard a rustle of movement, catching a human-like shadow hovering around the edge of the trees. </p><p>“Victor..?” she called hesitantly.</p><p>The shadow froze, turning its head in Riin’s direction. She could make out the outline of Victor’s face in the dim light, the whites of his eyes glinting softly. </p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Riin didn’t even need to ask. He looked uncomfortable, guilty even, clearly caught in the middle of doing something he shouldn’t. Riin’s eyes narrowed. </p><p>Victor released a nervous sigh. “I-I told you. I don’t want to stay with you.”</p><p><em>No.</em> She couldn’t let him go. <em>Too risky,</em> her brain screamed; letting Victor leave would introduce him as a wild card, an unknown. Dangerous. She refused to allow it. “Victor...but—“</p><p>“Why won’t you let me leave?” he interrupted. His voice sounded pained. </p><p>Victor was a good person. Soft, honest. Kind. Riin would never be able to convince him to stay if she didn’t appeal to that, which meant being open. Vulnerable. </p><p>She inhaled a hesitant breath. “Because I trust you,” she admitted shakily. “I trust you the most out of everyone here, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust anyone again if — if you leave.” Riin let her voice break a little, knowing the emotion would affect him. </p><p>The best lies, she found, contained a kernel of truth, and technically, she hadn’t lied. She trusted him not to kill her, which was more than she could say for Briar and Chase. </p><p>There was a moment of silence; a sliver of moonlight illuminated the torn expression on Victor’s face. “I-I…” </p><p>Brushing the sleeping bag off, Riin stood, slowly making her way towards him, afraid that any sudden movements would send him sprinting off like a scared rabbit. She reached his side without incident, and he stared down at her apprehensively. For a heartbeat, Riin wished she were taller; she didn’t like the natural advantage Victor’s height gave him. Instinctively, he angled his head closer towards her to better listen to words he didn’t want to hear.  </p><p>“Please,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Stay with us, like you promised.”</p><p>Riin brushed his forearm with her fingers, lightly guiding him in the direction she wanted. He let out a light whine of indecision, but allowed her to lead him back to their camp, settling down with their backs against a wide tree across from Briar’s still-sleeping form. That girl really slept like the dead. </p><p>“Tomorrow,” Victor choked out, “You let me go. Before the feast, okay? You let me <em>go.”</em></p><p>His demands were desperate, his tone heavy with emotion; Riin could tell he was on the edge of breaking, if he hadn’t already. She had him until then, at least, and that was all she needed. A lot could happen between now and tomorrow afternoon. She nodded. “Okay. It’s only fair.”</p><p>“Do you promise me? I need you to promise. Please, Riin.” </p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>The lie tasted like poison on her tongue, and Victor breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”</p><p>They sat in silence together, for how long, neither of them knew. Riin was far too awake to return to sleep, and apparently Victor was, too, as he didn’t move. A chilly breeze leftover from the rain swept the treetops, and Riin tentatively scooted a little closer to him, pressing against his side for warmth. If he tried to leave now, she’d feel it.</p><p>It was Victor who eventually broke the silence. “You killed that boy from Eleven, didn’t you?”</p><p>Riin stiffened. <em>How could he possibly know?</em> She must’ve slipped up somewhere; but where?</p><p>He looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. Perception. That was his only weapon, what made him so dangerous. The reason he had made it this far.</p><p>It didn’t matter how he knew; lying would do her no good. “Yes.”</p><p>He met her eyes, his dark irises reflecting the glowing pinpricks in the sky that passed for stars. Neither of them were able to tell the difference, anyways. “I appreciate you telling me,” he said honestly.</p><p><em>What the hell?</em> His unpredictability frustrated Riin. “I don’t understand you.”</p><p>The understatement of the century; Victor exhaled a quiet laugh. Silence followed, interrupted only by the quiet rustling of leaves. At any other time, any other place, it could’ve been considered peaceful. </p><p>Riin felt the need to break it. She straightened her shoulders; in response, Victor shifted towards her, inclining his head to listen. “Why won’t you kill anyone?” she asked, blunt, but careful not to be demanding.</p><p>Victor blinked at her, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said, as if that explained it all. He paused. “I don’t understand how you can.”</p><p>“It’s not like I have a choice,” Riin said defensively. </p><p>It was a lie, and Victor knew it. Slitting the throats of the Career pack had been a conscious decision on Riin’s part; an unnecessary one, too. “Everyone has a choice. You chose to kill. I didn’t.”</p><p>“And that makes you better than me?”</p><p>“No, it just makes us different.”</p><p>It sure as hell did. Riin bit her lip, frowning at the thought. It was nothing new, really. His reaction to Mira’s death had proved that well enough. She remembered the way he’d refused to take the weapon she’d offered him after her Career massacre. The looks he gave her every time she soaked her knives in Widow venom, no doubt empathizing with whoever might be in the receiving end. “What about Chase?” Riin questioned. “What if he kills you? Or me? Or Briar?”</p><p>“Then he wins,” Victor said with a shrug. </p><p>Riin scowled. “He doesn’t deserve to win.”</p><p>“Do you?” Victor stared at her. “Nobody deserves to die like this.” There it was, that rare edge in his tone. “I’m sure Chase has family back home, people who would celebrate his victory or mourn his death, just like you and I.”</p><p>Riin didn’t want to think about Chase’s family, or anything that would make killing him harder. “Everyone has a family,” she scoffed. “That’s the point.”</p><p>“All the more reason not to kill them,” he said matter-of-factly. </p><p>There was a moment of silence while Riin pondered his words. “They’ll die anyways,” she pointed out. “And what about your family? Won’t they be heartbroken when you die?”</p><p>Victor smiled mournfully at her words. She was surprised when he didn’t point out her word choice, though by now she should be familiar with his expectations for his future. “I think they’d understand,” he said. “If I came back, I don’t think I could live with myself. What difference would it make if I won?”</p><p>And there it was. The fundamental difference between them, stated as obviously as day and night. Riin still didn’t <em>understand</em> — she never would — but now she knew. Riin would take as many lives as necessary to save her own. Victor would not be able to live with taking one. </p><p>Riin’s perception of human nature had not considered that possibility. It went against the entire concept of the Hunger Games. </p><p>“I don’t want to die,” she whispered. </p><p>“Maybe you won’t,” Victor said in a low voice. She detected a trace of sadness in his tone; of course, her life would mean Briar’s death, and his own, though she couldn’t tell which he was more concerned about. </p><p>Did he blame her for wanting to stay alive? Or did he blame the situation, and the people who threw them into this arena? It was entirely possible he didn’t blame anyone, despite there being plenty to toss around. <em>That would be just like him,</em> she thought. She wondered if he even considered pointing the finger at anyone. Then she wondered why she was even thinking about this. It wasn’t like Victor’s opinion was vital to her survival. If she wasn’t going to speak her questions out loud, it wasn’t worth the concern. </p><p>The real issue was whatever the hell tomorrow was going to throw at her, and she had no way of knowing. Chase’s plans, Aquila’s plans, they were both foreign to her. The best thing she could come up with was ‘team up against Chase,’ which was rather vague and pathetic as far as plans went. She supposed her brilliant ideas had been spent earlier in the Games. An unfortunate train of thought; Riin dismissed the possibility. She had a defense against Chase’s arrows, and she was quite capable of thinking on her feet. That was the only reason she was still alive. </p><p>Still, it was poor planning to rely on that ability alone, especially with so many dangerous unknowns. But what other option did she have? </p><p>Riin let out a sigh of frustration. Victor looked at her, but didn’t say anything, and neither did she. She had her shield, her machete, her knives; she’d make sure to oil them up with plenty of Widow venom tomorrow morning. Chase had no way of knowing the advantage Riin held there. </p><p>There wasn’t much left to do but wait for the sun to rise. Riin leaned her head back against the tree bark, glancing at the star-spotted sky through the canopy of leaves. There were more stars here than there were back home, and she couldn’t even tell if they were real. </p><p>____</p><p>She must’ve dozed off again at some point; Riin opened her eyes to find her head resting against Victor’s shoulder. He was asleep, the sound of his even breathing still audible once she lifted her head. The sun was in the process of rearing its head, casting the arena in the pastel haze of dawn. Across their camp, Briar’s slumbering form huddled around the blanket, her snores adding to the chirps of crickets and birds within the forest. </p><p>Moving carefully so as not to wake her sleeping companions, Riin pulled her pack closer to herself, removing the shield and pawing through its contents in search for their rations just one more time. She gave up soon enough, doing her best to ignore the hunger as she further inspected the shield, trying out the strap on her arm. It wasn’t too heavy, thankfully, though it probably suffered in strength because of that. Hopefully she’d only need to use it against Chase’s arrows. </p><p>Riin replaced the shield within her bag, taking a second to breathe in the crisp air. She thought about waking Victor — he might appreciate the soft pink color of the sky right now — but chose not to after a minute of indecision.</p><p>A light breeze rattled the leaves of the trees around them, seeming to rouse her still-sleeping allies. Briefly, Riin wondered if it had been a mistake to let them make it through the night. Next to her, Victor let out a quiet mumble as he woke, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He gave Riin a sleepy smile when he met her eyes, which turned into a grimace as he remembered what day it was. “‘Morning, Riin,” he murmured, blinking away the sleep. </p><p>“Good morning, Victor,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching at the irony. It wouldn’t be a good morning for anyone here. </p><p>Victor glanced at Briar’s shifting form. “You still remember your promise?” he asked in a low whisper, out of their ally’s earshot. </p><p>Of course she remembered. Riin nodded, and Victor looked relieved. She offered him a small smile, cutting off whatever frivolous sentiments her mind tried to inflict upon her. </p><p>A loud yawn erupted from Briar’s direction as the girl came to full consciousness. “Any gifts today? she asked, hopeful.</p><p>Riin shook her head, and Briar scowled, pulling out the heating beanbags she’d stuffed into her boots yesterday. Absentmindedly, she fiddled with the stitching at the corner.</p><p>More uncomfortable silence ensued, broken only by Briar’s stomach grumbling. Riin glanced between her allies and the sky, trying to keep track of the time. Next to her, Victor’s gaze had drifted into the forest, lost in thought. She wondered what was going through his head right now; was he planning where to run off to before the feast? He didn’t seem to notice Riin staring at him, though Briar did. She paused her fidgeting, gripping the beanbag tightly in her hand as she met Riin’s eyes.</p><p>Slowly, almost hesitantly, Riin’s hand drifted to the knife at her wrist. Briar blinked, but didn’t move to stop her, didn’t shout a warning. Instead, she looked away, mouth set in a hard line. She understood.</p><p>“Hey, Victor.” His head turned towards her at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry.” Despite herself, the apology was sincere. </p><p>Victor opened his mouth to respond, his gaze quizzical, but already reassuring; Riin lashed out with the knife, cutting a deep red gash across his throat. He let out a soft, pained gasp, eyes widening in shock. His lips trembled, but no words came out, only the ugly gurgle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and the mortal wound. </p><p>In her peripheral, Riin could see Briar’s usual blasé mask crumble at their treachery. She was in danger of the same as she met her fallen ally’s dark gaze, full of unadulterated hurt and betrayal. <em>You promised,</em> his eyes seemed to say. His hand grasped at her jacket, unable to find purchase, and he stopped trying, body slumping against the tree trunk. Riin could tell when he gave in; his grimace relaxed, meeting Riin’s eyes once again before focusing on something behind her. The boom of a cannon echoed across the arena, persistent in its finality.</p><p>Riin felt something wet drip onto her hand, mixing with a scarlet stain she hadn’t seen before. She hadn’t even noticed she was crying. <em>Don’t. Not now.</em> </p><p>With the cleanest sleeve of her jacket, Riin wiped the moisture from her face. It came away red.</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Summary:</p><p>Riin finds that their rations have disappeared and questions her allies, who are innocent. They conclude that the Gamemakers want them to starve until the feast to make sure that everyone attends. Victor insinuates that he knows that Riin got rid of the food supply on purpose when they were starving after the spider attack. Riin also receives a note from Janus, which she interprets to mean that he wants her to kill her allies in their sleep, but decides against following Janus’s advice. </p><p>Victor decides that he does not want to attend the feast, which upsets Riin. She tells him that if he doesn’t come, the Gamemakers will force him out to kill whoever survives the coming fight, which clearly bothers him. Briar snaps at her to shut up. </p><p>Riin wakes at night to find Victor in the middle of leaving. She manipulates him to stay by saying that she will never be able to trust anyone again if he leaves. Victor is indecisive, but relents. Riin lies and promises to let him leave the alliance before the feast. Victor reveals that he knows Riin killed Oriel from Eleven. They discuss the nature of killing, and Victor states that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he took someone’s life, which completely baffles Riin. Riin worries about the next day, and they fall asleep. </p><p>In the morning, Victor asks Riin if she remembers her promise, which she confirms. He is relieved. There is an uncomfortable silence, in which Riin and Briar come to an understanding; Riin kills Victor.<br/>____<br/>Remaining tributes:<br/>1. D3M (Chase)<br/>2. D6F (Briar)<br/>3. D8F (Riin)<br/>____<br/>I’m sorry. I would be lying if I said I haven’t cried over this scene. And tbh sometimes I think about what would’ve happened if Victor won. It would probably be a better story, but here we are. </p><p>Also, some words on the song I’ve chosen for this chapter: I’m not sure how many of you guys actually listen to the songs I put up at the top, but I really recommend this one. It’s incredibly haunting and really fits the vibe of this chapter, especially for Riin and Victor’s conversation. Given the lyrics I have chosen, I’d like to add a disclaimer that I don’t think of Riin and Victor’s relationship as romantic in any sense and neither did they; the “love” in this sense is the love between friends. So Riin (in the song) saying that she can’t even manage that is. Incredibly sad, imo. (I have a Lot of opinions in platonic vs romantic love ok).</p><p>Anyways, kids, if your friends talk to you the way that Riin talks to Victor (even without the murder), Please get better friends.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Victor, Part II: Enter the Ring of Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: Very graphic depictions of violence. Again. Haha. I’ll put a small summary at the end again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/egt5wb4-VYA">Bloodsport</a> by Skold, KMFDM</p><p>
  <em>All against all<br/>Enter the ring<br/>A game of games<br/>Bloodsport is king</em>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin and Briar didn’t bother moving camp after the hovercraft came for Victor’s body. Two-on-one was still a fight Chase would have to prepare for; going after them now would just be stupid. </p><p>“I’m glad you did it,” Briar said after a moment, her voice low. “I don’t know if I would’ve had it in me, after everything.”</p><p>Riin kept her face a blank slate. “I figured my knife was kinder than your mace.”</p><p>“I doubt they’ll see it that way in Thirteen.” </p><p>Riin didn’t deign that with a response. She didn’t care about what they saw in District Thirteen, and she was done thinking about Victor. She’d worry about that later if she had to. When she had to. </p><p>Belatedly, Riin realized she still clutched the knife in her hand, red with the blood of her betrayal. It was all over her shirt, too. And probably her face. “I’m going to wash this,” Riin said, heading towards the river. </p><p>“Good luck getting the blood off your hands,” Briar quipped. </p><p>Riin ignored her again, shouldering her pack as she left Briar behind at the campsite. She really hoped the girl wouldn’t decide to run off, or ambush her from behind, despite their agreement from the night before. Riin had already broken it with Victor, after all. The thought kept her mind off her fallen former ally; she needed her brain in the present.</p><p>Kneeling down at the riverbank, Riin marveled at how little blood had actually gotten on her hands, compared to the amount that had come pouring from Victor’s wound. She really was getting better at this. Dunking her blade into the water, she rinsed it clean, scrubbing her hands and then her face for good measure. She dried herself with the white parachute cloth, tucking it back into her pocket and stood to rejoin her sole companion. </p><p>With that, Riin and Briar set off towards their fate. They retraced their path from before, winding along the river until they returned to their previous campsite by the fallen tree. Just days ago, they had been hiding out here with Victor. His absence cut sharper than Riin’s knife; her black shirt was still damp with his blood. Neither of the tentative allies said a word to each other, focusing on the placement of their steps as they crossed the tree-bridge. They wandered through the grove of trees, the only thing separating them from the open meadow and the Cornucopia. </p><p>“I’ve been thinking about if I win,” Briar said nonchalantly, “I’d wanna get a new tattoo for you. And for Victor.”</p><p>Riin wasn’t expecting to hear anything like that from her gruff companion. “How sentimental of you,” she jeered, stopping behind the last couple of concealing trees and bushes. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the idea of having her face inked on the back of Briar’s skull, which had grown a layer of translucent peach fuzz during their time in the arena. </p><p>Briar scoffed and rolled her eyes. Riin couldn’t tell if the girl was offended by her reaction. Probably not. </p><p>Pulling out the bottle of congealed Widow venom, Riin applied a gracious coat to her remaining knives while they waited. There wasn’t much left; it would have to do. Briar watched her dubiously, but said nothing. </p><p>The sun reached its zenith in the arena’s sky, throwing fractals of light from the metal hull of the Cornucopia. Noon; any moment now, the feast would begin. Riin and Briar crouched behind the treeline still, out of immediate view of any observers, hopefully including Chase. As they watched, the ground split open, an elevated platform rising from the catacombs beneath the arena; it bore a hefty table laden with more food than Riin ever thought she’d see again. Though she couldn’t resolve each individual dish, the scent of freshly cooked meats and sauces wafted over to their position, and her mouth watered at the display. Riin had never been this tempted by a hot meal before; while she knew logically that humans could go longer without food than she had up until now, the aromas still gnawed at her empty stomach. Even the sandwiches from a couple days ago were nothing compared to the prospect of the feast before them. </p><p>“Assholes,” Briar sneered. “I doubt any of us will actually get the chance to eat that, win or not.”</p><p>She was right; they’d be too busy killing each other. That was the real attraction. Riin felt a different kind of hunger boil in the pit of her stomach. One way or another, the Games ended now; she’d had enough of being trapped in this fucking arena. </p><p>Still, she was at loathe to step out into the field first. She wouldn’t get very far with one of Chase’s arrows through her skull, now would she? She still had no idea where he was; she’d been hoping he would’ve set foot into the open first. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case, and Riin gripped the shield on her left arm nervously. Again she checked her weapons; two knives on her wrists, two on her leg, and the machete on her belt. Briar still only carried her morningstar; Riin glanced at her from the corner of her eye to find the girl focused intently on the distant feast. </p><p><em>If none of us move, they’ll make us move.</em> Riin got the sinking feeling that either decision held a trap within, and fear wormed its way into her bones, between her joints. She wasn’t frozen, but the thought that she could die right here, with one bad move…</p><p>She wouldn’t. She <em>couldn’t.</em> That was simply not an option. She hadn’t killed eight people just to die in the final act. Eight people that had not-so-graciously sacrificed their lives to her unforgiving hands. <em>Only two left.</em> </p><p>Riin nudged Briar with her elbow. “He’s probably waiting for us,” she said, jutting her chin towards the tantalizing feast. </p><p>Briar growled wordlessly at her, at the situation. “Fuck it, we should make a run for it. I’m not gonna sit here with my tail between my legs.” </p><p>“Are you crazy?” Riin hissed. </p><p>“We said we’d take him together,” Briar insisted. “He’s just one guy. Let’s <em>go.”</em></p><p>That sounded a lot like some famous last words to Riin; she nearly yelped in surprise when Briar dragged her by the arm in a dead sprint towards the Cornucopia. Riin had no choice but to run with her. Out in the open where Chase could be hiding anywhere, standing still would definitely get her killed. She shifted the shield in front of herself as she ran, ready to move it to intercept any incoming arrows. </p><p>They’d only sprinted about a third of the way towards the Cornucopia when Riin caught the flash of a fast-moving projectile speeding towards her position. She shoved Briar out of the way as the arrow struck the ground between them, and they kept running. Eyes angled towards the Cornucopia, Riin briefly glimpsed the silhouette of an archer standing tall on top of the metal structure just as another arrow flew out of the sun, straight for her head. Riin jerked the shield over her face, and just in time; the impact from the arrow made her stagger as it glanced off the metallic plate. “He’s on top of the Cornucopia!” </p><p>“No shit!” Briar shot back as they fell in line together, skidding to a stop a couple of meters from the feast table. </p><p>A pause in the volley of arrows had Riin frowning up at Chase’s form mistrustfully, shield held protectively over her chin and torso, her weight balanced in her toes. She noticed a strange flicker of light from atop the Cornucopia and nearly jumped out of her shoes as Chase sent a flaming arrow soaring over their heads. </p><p>Briar let out a bark of laughter. “You missed, idiot!”</p><p>Before Riin could tell her to shut up, the ground behind them erupted into roaring flames; Riin felt a wave of heat on her back, and she skittered forwards to avoid the burn. As she watched, the fire snaked a path around the Cornucopia, trapping the three tributes within a ring of ten-foot tall flames. </p><p>Terror bubbled within Riin’s stomach, threatening to rip out of her mouth in a scream. She clamped her jaws around it, her brain racing for an out. Logically, there was no way the fire could have reached this high so quickly; it wasn’t burning enough fuel for that. But right now, the hows and the whys were the least of Riin’s problems, paling in comparison to the blistering flames and the arrow currently whistling straight towards her chest. Instinctively, Riin shrugged the shield in front of herself, leaping out of the arrow’s path; it struck the ground an inch from her foot, but she hardly noticed, her breath coming in pants as she zigzagged out of a second arrow’s striking zone. </p><p>Whipping her head from side to side, Riin glimpsed Briar dodge another arrow as she frantically searched for cover. The feast table stood out like a sore thumb, the only feasible haven save for the Cornucopia itself. She moved as soon as the thought struck, diving for the shelter of the table and hearing the thud of an arrow strike the ground right where she’d stood. </p><p>A heartbeat later, Briar squeezed underneath with her, gasping for breath as she clung to the shadow of the table. The smell of fresh food drifted downwards from the untouched delicacies, but Riin would rather throw up than eat any of it, too wired to consider the meal. </p><p>Chase had paused his rain of arrows again, surely not wanting to waste them on impossible targets. He had a better chance of winning if he managed to stay on top and pick them both off. <em>Let’s waste you some arrows, then.</em> Riin pulled out the parachute cloth from her pocket, balling it up and tossing the wad of fabric out from under the table. Before it could unfurl and drift down, Chase’s arrow pinned it to the ground with a <em>shhhckk.</em></p><p>“Get down here and fight us, you coward!” Briar hollered at him. Pretty rich for someone hiding underneath a table, though if it got Chase to throw down his bow…They were like fish in a barrel down here, except the barrel was on fire. </p><p>Chase didn’t respond to Briar, at least not with words. Riin heard the curious splatter of what sounded like water being poured on the surface above them. Then, the thud of an arrow striking the table, and everything was on fire again. </p><p>Riin screeched in surprise as the plates of food succumbed to the blistering flames overtop her head, providing fuel for the new blaze; she rolled out from under the burning table, barely dodging another arrow sent by her opponent. She leveled her shield in front of her face, glancing at Briar as the girl scrambled out from under the table, a flaming arrow whizzing past her tattooed head. She turned her face towards Riin, a small gash leaking blood from her cheek, and growled wordlessly at Chase, eyes flashing with fury.</p><p>Chase stood above them on the lip of the Cornucopia, poised in his archer’s stance like an unforgiving god. Riin tried to count the remaining arrows in his quiver, but the sunlight behind him made her eyes water, turning his form into a darkened silhouette. He drew his elbow back, a deadly arrow nocked in his bow. Without thinking, Riin ripped the shield from her arm and hurled it towards him like a frisbee, arcing it gracefully over the smoldering mess of the feast. He released his arrow at the same time, aimed directly at Riin’s now-open chest. Riin allowed the momentum of her throw to twist her body a bit further; the arrow grazed the base of her neck just as her shield caught an unexpecting Chase right in the stomach, sending him toppling backwards off the Cornucopia. </p><p>Riin’s breath came in gasps; she pressed her hand to the wound, a long gash right between her left shoulder and her neck. The pain flared, and she winced, pulling her now-bloodied hand away. Ignoring the twinging wound, she shook her head to clear the uncomfortable thoughts spreading into her mind. She was fine; she could still do this. </p><p>With a glance at Briar, Riin followed her lead, sprinting around the flaming table to where Chase had fallen. The bow had been ejected from his grasp, now resting a good fifteen feet away in a patch of bright yellow flowers. His remaining arrows had been flung from his quiver, scattering all over the grass. A pity he hadn’t impaled himself on one. </p><p>Chase must’ve landed directly onto his back; he panted heavily, relying on one of his two swords to help him stand. Briar didn’t let him rest, charging at the Career with a loud battle cry, her morningstar flying towards his head. Chase’s eyes widened at the spiked weapon; he managed to raise his second sword in time to block her strike, though he wobbled on his feet, still winded. Drawing her machete and a knife, Riin raced to join her (temporary) ally. </p><p>Briar swung at him again, but he blocked with both swords this time, recovering quickly from his fall. Fortunately, Riin didn’t see either of the spears he had grabbed the last time she’d seen him at the Cornucopia as she stepped around his side. </p><p>Chase noticed Riin sneaking around his flank to join the fight; he swiped at her with a sword, the other holding off Briar’s fierce attacks. Riin dodged it easily. The two of them were enough to distract him, for the moment at least. </p><p>Switching her grip on the knife handle, Riin sent it flying towards his chest. He sidestepped the blade, and it landed uselessly in the grass. She began circling around him, hoping to get behind him while Briar held his attention from the front. Chase was not so easily fooled; he kept both opponents in his line of sight, holding a steady sword in Riin’s direction when he could spare it. Replacing the knife in her hand, Riin waited until Briar swung at him again before throwing the weapon. This time it hit, grazing his upper arm as he sliced with his offhand sword to cut deep into Briar’s leg. </p><p>The girl howled in pain, blood trailing in rivulets from the fresh wound. Her expression twisted into one of agonized fury, gripping onto her weapon like a lifeline. </p><p>With a wince, Chase inspected the wound on his arm, glaring coldly at Riin. “You wicked little bitch,” he seethed, wiping the blood with his sleeve. “You may have killed my allies, but you’re still just a walking corpse.”</p><p>“You’re just mad that you didn’t get to kill them yourself.”</p><p>Chase smirked at her jibe. “Oh, and I wonder what got your little ally in the end, the odd one from Thirteen…” <em>Odd? How dare he insult Victor!</em> Something in Riin’s expression must’ve given her away. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Chase let out a cackle, and Riin only hissed in response. His features twisted into a savage snarl as he twirled his sword arrogantly. “You really think you can win, either of you? Just wait ‘til I get my hands on you, then we’ll give them a real show,” he growled, baring his teeth in a savage grin. </p><p>Riin didn’t rise to the taunt this time; she had two knives left, and she needed to make them count. Offhandedly, she wondered if enough of the Widow venom had gotten into Chase’s seemingly insignificant wound. </p><p>Briar grunted in discomfort from Riin’s side, her grey eyes blazing with fire reflected from the burning feast. “Shut up and die already,” she spat. </p><p>Chase laughed unpleasantly. “After you.” </p><p>With a flash of his swords, he struck out towards both of them, sweeping a wide arc at shoulder-level; Riin leapt backwards before the steel blade could slice through her neck. She heard a growl as Briar blocked his blow with the shaft of her morningstar, stumbling under the weight of the weapon and her wound. </p><p>Gripping her machete, Riin darted under Chase’s arm, slashing a solid cut on his side before hopping back out of harm’s way. He yelped in shock, lunging towards her with a scowl and a sword. </p><p>Riin’s eyes widened a half-second too late as she realized she’d underestimated Chase’s reach; his blade glided towards her heart, and she clumsily parried with the machete, earning a searing pain across her stomach. She was bleeding, she felt it, but she was still on her feet. Briefly, she glanced down at the laceration, visible through a tear in her shirt, and was relieved at the absence of intestines spilling from her stomach. </p><p>Another mistake; Chase loomed in front of her suddenly, and Riin could barely get her weapon in front of her face before she felt the crack of his sword hilt against her temple. </p><p>She dropped like a sack of rocks, gasping as blackness crept around the edges of her vision. <em>No!</em> Terror leaked into her bones as she hit the ground, completely vulnerable. Clutching onto her machete for dear life, she braced herself on her elbows, raising her head to the battle still raging above her. Chase hunched slightly over the wound Riin had inflicted on his torso, grimacing as he presumably felt the poison in his blood. He swam in and out of Riin’s view, favoring his uninjured arm. From directly above her, Briar’s cry of fury sounded like it was coming from underwater, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. </p><p>A flash of light reflected off metal; Chase’s sword diving for Riin’s fallen form. The shift of a shadow overhead as Briar wound back her weapon arm, her whole body leaning into the movement, and Riin didn’t even need to look to know. A splash of blood from the bald girl’s leg wound dripped onto Riin’s forehead as she hauled herself to her knees, poison-tipped machete in hand. Even if Riin hadn’t moved, Chase’s sword would’ve missed; his arm spasmed from the poison infection, sword striking the ground just as Briar’s morningstar caught him unexpectedly in the chin. Riin thought she saw a spike protruding from inside Chase’s opened mouth just before his head snapped backwards; quick as she could in her state, Riin lashed out with her machete at the gruesome gash on Briar’s leg, imbuing the venom deep into her bloody flesh. Briar hissed at the new fire in her wound, still caught in the momentum of her blow. </p><p>Chase’s body seemed to collapse slowly, and he landed on his back again. Riin couldn’t resolve the bloody mess that was his face from her position, but she assumed he was still breathing as no cannon had accompanied his fall. Closer now to Chase than Riin, Briar took it upon herself to finish him off, bringing the spiked morningstar down on his skull with a wet crunch. </p><p>Riin took the opportunity to scramble as far away from Briar as she could, her heartbeat echoing painfully in her ears as she rose to her feet with the boom of the cannon. Shaking her head to clear the dizziness from her vision, Riin drew her last throwing knife, still clutching the machete in her other hand.</p><p>This was it. Just her and Briar now, the other girl the only thing standing in the way of Riin and her continued survival. An unfamiliar feeling blossomed in her chest; a hope — a hunger, even — that she could actually win this forsaken game. </p><p>Briar straightened, yanking her weapon from what used to be Chase’s head. She locked eyes with Riin, swinging the morningstar in front of her in low, threatening arcs. “You and me, huh,” she said, wiping a few droplets of blood from her cheek. </p><p>Riin glared at Briar, determination in her eyes. Briar, her ally, her companion. A friend, maybe? Not that it mattered. </p><p>She remained silent, taking in the other tribute’s injuries, her strengths. The scratch on her cheek; the poisoned wound on her leg dripping blood into the dirt. The way she favored her uninjured side, the morningstar weighing her down. The weapon itself was covered in gore, lest Riin forget its potence in her enemy’s hands. Riin herself had only a single knife remaining, gripped in her left hand, as well as her machete, but she carried more injuries: the wound on her neck, her stomach. The blow to her head from Chase’s sword hilt still rang in her ears. </p><p>Briar was severely weakened, but she outclassed Riin in height and stature. How long until the venom took hold of her body? More importantly, for how long could Riin evade the morningstar’s cruel spikes? She’d find out soon enough. </p><p>“Come on, don’t bitch out on me now,” Briar mocked. “I thought you wanted to win.”</p><p>Riin’s mouth twisted into a scowl; a slight shift in Briar’s stance alerted her to an incoming attack. The weapon’s weight and Briar’s reliance on her good leg told Riin exactly where the strike would hit; she shuffled out of reach, raising her machete defensively in front of her face. No doubt the morningstar could easily tear right through that defense, but only if Briar could catch her. </p><p>The girl let out a growl of frustration, swinging her weapon backwards towards Riin’s abdomen; Riin jumped away, machete and knife at the ready. </p><p>Briar whirled the mace again, lunging to bring it down on Riin’s skull. Light on her toes, Riin dodged the attack, and the next. She reared her head back as the spiked ball came a little too close to her chin, a sharp twinge of pain coming from the cut on her neck. Grimacing, she felt the warmth of the blood from her wound trickle down her chest; underneath her shirt, the cut on her stomach leaked into the waistband of her pants when she hunched over. </p><p>Clearly, the venom wasn’t acting quickly enough. Even with her leg wound, it was only a matter of time before Briar managed to land a devastating hit, and Riin doubted she could handle even one. </p><p>Briar’s panting turned into a battle cry, loud enough to make Riin flinch. The blow was coming for Riin’s head again, and Briar’s adrenaline-fueled leap rendered her entire left side was wide open. In a quick change of tactics, Riin ducked under the blow, propelling herself in close towards the other tribute; straightening, she jabbed her knife into the flesh of Briar’s left shoulder. She’d been aiming for her heart, but the sudden impalement by steel was enough to make Briar shriek in shocked pain. </p><p>Before Riin could react, Briar’s spiked mace swung upwards to meet her knife-arm. Riin heard a sickening crunch of bone as the spikes tore their way through her forearm. Then the pain hit, all consuming and blistering hotter than the fires raging around them, and she collapsed again. She landed on her right arm — the uninjured one, at least — a cry of agony squeezing from her lips at the impact. Clamping her teeth around the scream that tore from her throat, Riin shakily turned her head upwards towards Briar, her vision blurred by the tears flowing unwittingly from her eyes. </p><p>She was in too much pain to accurately judge Briar’s reaction, catching only furious motions of the girl’s free hand swatting at her injured shoulder. Even the slightest movement of her body drew more tears from Riin’s eyes — she could <em>feel</em> the broken pieces of bone shifting underneath her skin — but she managed to slide a leg underneath herself for support. Grimacing, she cradled her mangled arm to her chest and kicked out with a heavy boot at Briar’s leg wound. The girl screeched in anguish and fell to a knee; frantically, Riin crawled away from her as far as her broken body would allow, gritting her teeth through the pain-induced nausea. </p><p><em>“You bitch!”</em> Agony leaked into Briar’s tone; from her position on the ground, Riin noticed the knife still embedded in her chest. Briar’s hand hovered above it still, likely afraid of bleeding out if she removed it — at the cost, Riin realized, of a higher dose of poison reaching her heart. Riin felt another flutter of that feeling in her chest, despite her own weakened state. </p><p>She caught a glint of flames in the corner of her eye; had the ring of fire constricted around them? Ashes from the blaze drifted into her eyes, making them water — though that could be attributed to the throbbing pain of her shattered forearm. </p><p>Briar’s heavy panting drew her attention back to the immediate issue. The girl’s face had twisted into a permanent scowl of misery; the poison must’ve taken hold. She had to realize that by now. Through her own agony, an unkind laugh bubbled impulsively from Riin’s mouth. </p><p>“What’s so fucking funny?” Briar spat, glaring vicious daggers as Riin slowly pulled herself into a crouch, gripping the machete in her right hand. </p><p>“You’re already dead,” Riin said matter-of-factly, the concept of Victory beginning to materialize in her mind. </p><p>But confidence was deadly; Briar could still win if she managed to get the upper hand on Riin in the next few minutes. Standing shakily to her feet, Riin stepped further out of reach. </p><p>The barrier of flames had definitely shrunk; the uncomfortable heat on Riin’s back told her that. Her evasion tactics would be limited — the Gamemakers wanted an up-close fight. </p><p>“You think your poison trick will get me?” Briar wheezed, using her mace to push herself to her feet. “I’ll just have to kill you faster. They’ll fix me up with the antidote once I win.” She sounded so sure of herself. Riin had never known of an antidote to Widow venom; as far as she was concerned Briar was dead, though she didn’t doubt they had some magic tricks in the Capitol up their designer sleeves. But Briar didn’t need to know that. </p><p>“Antidote?” Riin said with a mocking laugh. “There is no antidote. You'll die whether you win or not. You might as well give up now.”</p><p>Riin caught a flash of uncertainty in Briar’s eyes before the other girl dismissed it with a growl. Ripping the knife from her chest, Briar rolled out her shoulder and hefted her mace. Riin readied her own blade, keeping her injured arm tucked against her bloody stomach. Briar staggered towards Riin, murder in her eyes; the venom-infected wound on her leg slowed her severely, and Riin managed to stay well out of the girl’s reach this time. Riin could read the exertion on Briar’s face just from swinging the morningstar, and she couldn’t help the hint of a crazed smile on her lips. </p><p>Briar’s next blow came with a yell of frustration; Riin sidestepped the heavy spikes, lashing out with her machete at the girl’s arm. The steel blade landed a shallow strike across Briar’s fingers, gripped tightly around the shaft of her weapon. The tribute let out a gasp of pain as Riin hopped out of the way, ignoring the fire in her arm triggered by every slight motion. </p><p>With a mad glint in her eyes, Briar swung the heavy mace again at Riin; she missed wildly and staggered from the momentum, leaving her front exposed. Jumping at the chance, Riin kicked her hard in the stomach, knocking the already off-balance tribute flat on her back. Briar grunted in surprise from the blow, groaning in pain when she hit the ground; her grip on the morningstar had loosened while she fell, the unwieldy weapon falling like a deadweight into the grass. Riin quickly kicked it out of the girl’s reach, sending it rolling into the ever-pressing circle of flames. </p><p>This was it; her enemy was down. It would take one cut of her machete to end it all. </p><p>Briar struggled to sit up, not bothering to disguise the whimpers of pain that accompanied her movements. Weaponless, she kicked at Riin desperately, the weak blows hardly phasing Riin’s advance. Riin stepped around her outstretched leg and stomped her boot down hard on Briar’s stomach. Briar let out a strangled cry as she instinctively curled inwards at the pain, her lungs wheezing for air.</p><p>Planting a solid foot on her chest, Riin analyzed Briar’s struggling form. How should she do it? Right through the chest? Or maybe the eye, relatively quick if Briar stayed still. But then which eye? Maybe she should just gut her instead; the audience would love that. </p><p>Riin was about to adjust the grip on her machete when a flash of sudden movement from Briar caught her eye. A paralyzing pain shot fire through the leg still resting on Briar’s chest, drawing an ear-splitting screech from Riin’s throat; looking down, she saw the tail end of an arrow protruding from her left calf. Briar must’ve landed next to one of Chase’s scattered arrows, Riin realized belatedly. Immediately, a dizzying wave of agony swept through her body, joining with the dull throbbing of her broken arm. She fell to one knee, her weight pressing painfully into her injured leg to keep Briar in place. </p><p>The girl wriggled beneath her, and, in a flight of malice, Riin shifted her foot to cover the poisoned stab wound she had inflicted on Briar’s shoulder. She ignored the white-hot burn in her leg, blocking it from her mind as she leaned her entire body into Briar’s injury. With a cry of pain, Briar released her grip on the arrow shaft, her arm dancing in a nerve-induced spasm. Riin dug her boot heel into the wound, eliciting another scream from Briar’s lips. </p><p><em>She deserves this,</em> Riin thought with a cold fury. For every injury Briar dealt to her, Riin wanted to pay it back tenfold. </p><p>Shifting to pin Briar’s other shoulder to the ground with her knee, she maintained the pressure on the girl's wound, keeping her from escaping. Gently, Riin lifted Briar’s chin with her machete. </p><p>Briar’s eyes reflected only hatred at her position of disadvantage and the fact that Riin had put her there. “What are you waiting for, you sadistic little fuck,” she wheezed, more venom in her voice than in her bloodstream. </p><p>The flutter raced through Riin’s chest again, stronger this time, and she leveled the point of her machete at Briar’s throat. “Goodbye, Briar.” A smile split Riin’s lips, and she drove the blade sharply into the soft flesh of Briar’s neck. Briar choked on the steel, a rasping breath and a trickle of blood spilling from her mouth; her grey eyes widened briefly before rolling lifelessly into the back of her tattooed head. </p><p>Riin released a gasp of relief as the last death cannon resounded throughout the arena. It was over. It was over, and she was still breathing. She’d won. </p><p>With an enormous amount of effort, Riin pushed herself to her feet, pulling the machete out from Briar’s throat and leaning heavily on her uninjured leg as a score of trumpets echoed jarringly over the air. The fanfare hadn’t even finished when Riin felt the pain creep back into her body in a searing static, and she almost collapsed again.</p><p>Clenching her teeth to steady her breathing, Riin forced the fog to clear from her mind, straightening her shoulders and holding her chin high at the following announcement.</p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the winner of the One Hundred and Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games: Thariin Kres!”</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Summary:</p><p>At noon, Briar drags Riin into the feast. Chase shoots arrows from atop the Cornucopia at them, and shoots a flaming arrow over their heads, which creates a ring of fire to trap them all. Riin throws her shield and knocks Chase off the Cornucopia. The three of them fight and get various injuries. Chase knocks Riin down, and Briar kills him with her mace. </p><p>Riin and Briar fight; Riin stabs Briar with a poisoned knife and Briar gets her in the arm with the mace, which shatters Riin’s bones. They both argue and Riin tells Briar to give up. They fight again, and Riin kicks Briar in the stomach to knock her down. Riin pins her and deliberates over how to kill her. In the meantime, Briar stabs Riin in the calf with an arrow she found in the grass. Riin kills Briar quickly afterwards, and is declared the winner of the 168th Hunger Games.<br/>____<br/>Final Kill Tally:</p><p>D8F (Riin): 9<br/>D3M (Chase): 4<br/>D6F (Briar): 3<br/>D2M (Blade): 3<br/>D2F: 3<br/>D1F (Nova): 3<br/>D4F: 2<br/>D1M: 2<br/>D4M: 2<br/>D11F (Mira): 1</p><p>(There is a reason why there are more kills than tributes, which isn’t incredibly important but I will mention it later)<br/>____<br/>Wow, she won, what a plot twist.. I mean, it was kind of a given, what with having a mostly single-POV hunger games fic (I’ve only seen a small handful that don’t go this route). Anyways, just bc I knew she was gonna win didn’t mean I had to make it <em>easy</em> for her jfjf </p><p>When I first wrote out this last battle scene I was Surprised how many words it was. Even reading it, it does not feel like 5k+ words jfjf. I’m p happy with how it turned out tho ;-;</p><p>And yeah, so that’s that! The last 3 chapters are p much wrapping the story up, and will maybe give you guys an idea as to what Riin’s life is going to look like now.. and now that I can say this without spoiling the whole story.. oh man, she’s got a Lot ahead of her. Again, I can’t promise when I’ll have that story (stories?) ready bc, as I said before, I have a Lot of ideas, and a Lot more characters too. And if you feel like it, definitely let me know what you think of this all right now, I love hearing people’s opinions on my stuff ;-;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Futile Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/DJB7Tr3SfpM">The Ones</a> by Aesthetic Perfection</p><p> </p><p>  <em>We are the ones you should be fearing<br/>Come in the night and take your teeth away<br/>Now sew up your mouth and go to sleep, 'cause<br/>We'll be there soon to break your heart and spite your face</em></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin wasn’t quite sure how she remained on her feet as the hovercraft materialized over the sky, casting the arena in an unnaturally dark shadow. Offhandedly, she realized the ring of fire had disappeared; it was quite dark for mid afternoon. She blinked rapidly, chasing the blackness from the edges of her vision, stumbling a little to catch herself from keeling over. Sharp pain lanced through her right leg, reminding her unkindly of the arrow still sticking out through her flesh. </p><p>Once she became aware of one injury, the rest flooded back, setting her nerve receptors ablaze with a hot fury. Riin dropped, falling onto her right knee. Breathlessly, she heaved with the effort, retching blood, spittle, and stomach acid into the scorched grass. She braced herself with her uninjured arm as the world spun around her, the pull of unconsciousness weaving in and out of her sight. <em>Not yet.</em> The pain took hold of her again and she heaved up more blood and fluids, her stomach having been empty of food long ago.</p><p>She barely noticed as the hovercraft lowered its talons, collecting the dead bodies of Chase and Briar into its maw. The ladder appeared before her next, seemingly out of thin air. With an effort she didn’t realize was possible given her current state, Riin staggered to her feet. Forgetting that her left arm was currently not functioning, she reached out with it to grab the ladder and almost retched again at the nausea induced from the movement, from the sight of her mangled, bloody fingers. </p><p>But using her other arm would require her to drop her weapon. </p><p><em>I don’t need it anymore. I’ve won,</em> the logical part of her brain insisted, but some primal instinct within her abhorred the idea. She clutched the machete closer to her chest, the point of the blade held shakily towards the ladder. <em>What if it's a trick?</em> The twenty-five other tributes were dead, but they weren’t Riin’s only enemy. Hadn’t it been Aquila and his legion of Gamemakers trying to kill her this whole time? What better way to finally eliminate her than tricking her into a false sense of security? <em>That would be just like him,</em> she thought, clever enough to win the Games from outside the arena. A man like Aquila would hardly accept a fourteen year-old girl as an intellectual equal. </p><p>They wanted her weaponless on that hovercraft; all the easier to kill her. Slowly and painfully, Riin backed away from the ladder, gritting her teeth through the movement. The Games weren’t over; she hoped the machete would be enough. </p><p>Riin stood her ground, her ragged breath echoing in her ears. Eventually the hovercraft pilots realized she wouldn’t walk willingly to her death, and the ladder receded into the sky. Before Riin even dared to relax her stance, it descended again, two large white figures clinging to the rungs. </p><p>A bolt of fear shot through the pit of her stomach, and Riin retreated as fast as her heavily injured body allowed, shuffling backwards a foot or two with her blade held defensively against the advancing Peacekeepers. Her breath came in gasps, eyes flicking wildly between the two of them. <em>They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me right here.</em> In the back of her mind, Riin wondered whether they had stopped broadcasting yet. </p><p>The Peacekeepers moved towards her cautiously, as if attempting to approach a skittish wild animal. Riin glared at them, knowing this was a fight she would lose but desperate to remain standing. “Put down the weapon. It’s over.”</p><p><em>Nice try.</em> Riin ignored the command, adjusting her grip on the handle of her machete. <em>It’s not over yet.</em> The one who had spoken took a step closer; too close. Riin hissed, swiping at them uselessly with her weapon. </p><p>“Woah, there! We’re just trying to help you. You need to come with us.” Their tone reminded Riin of her mother, though maybe it was the armor too. The last time she’d seen her, the woman had been crying underneath her helmet. </p><p>Riin took another step back, an unwitting whimper escaping her lips as she set her weight on her injured leg. </p><p>“This is ridiculous,” the other Peacekeeper said, irritated. Riin froze as they reached for something on their belt.</p><p>There was a crack and a blinding flash of light; Riin was unconscious before she hit the ground. </p><p>____</p><p>The first thing to register in Riin’s ears was an incessant beeping. The rhythm was constant, keeping perfect time with her heartbeat. She still had one, then.</p><p>Riin exhaled, a quiet sigh of relief. The next breath brought the clean, sharp scent of antiseptic with it, and her eyes flew open. </p><p>White. Everything around her was a searing, blinding, brilliant white, and she squinted in defense, blinking a couple of times as her vision swam into focus. Fuzziness remained around the edges, coating her thoughts with confusion. She tried to lift her head, and found that she could not. </p><p>The beeping increased in frequency, adding to the growing panic in Riin’s gut. She couldn't move anything; her arms and legs were as heavy as rocks. They might as well not be there. She couldn't even shiver as her blood ran cold — literally cold — and the shadows at the edge of her vision embraced her. </p><p>____</p><p>The next time Riin woke, it was to the quiet murmur of people talking nearby and a throbbing pain in her right arm and left leg. The beeping was still present, comforting in its reminder that she lived. The pain, however; that brought back memories — knives and poison and friends? And blood, so much blood. </p><p>The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to <em>hurt.</em> Ghosts of the injuries resurfaced. A blade dragging across her stomach, an arrow sticking out of her leg, a mace crushing the bones in her left forearm — the recollection of the pain was enough to make the bile rise in Riin’s stomach. She clenched her teeth, but stopped when that unexpectedly hurt. </p><p>Riin didn’t remember getting hit in the mouth in her final battle… or did she? </p><p>Her brain was still quite fuzzy, and now that she thought about it, she vaguely recalled taking a boot to the face at some point. </p><p>It was too difficult to place, and she became distracted by the heavy bandaging on her left arm. Right, that was the one that—</p><p>The sound of crunching bones rang in Riin’s ears, drowning out the beeping of the heartbeat monitor. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly. At that moment, Riin discovered that she had regained the ability to twitch her limbs and immediately regretted it. </p><p>She wasn’t sure if it was the blistering pain or the cold liquid in her blood that sent her back into the darkness.</p><p>____</p><p>Riin’s left arm was heavy with bandages hard as rock the next time she resurfaced. The weight was more significant since her arm had been secured uncomfortably above her head and out of reach. She tried to yank it back, but the round of dull throbbing that came with the motion halted her effort. </p><p>Gingerly, Riin tested the rest of her limbs with gentle twitches and movements of her toes and fingers, finding that aside from her left arm, all were pain-free. Surprising, since she distinctly remembered an entire arrow shaft buried halfway into her right leg. Had the arrow gone completely through? She couldn’t remember. Not that it had mattered at the time. </p><p>Right leg, left leg, fine. Right arm, fine. Left arm… debatable. It seemed very much like a work in progress. </p><p>Thankfully, her head felt a bit less fuzzy than it had the past couple of days. Her mouth didn’t hurt anymore, but something about it was off — wait, days? How long had she been in here? Time passed differently in her section of the Capitol hospital. </p><p>A Capitol hospital, that must be where she was. The Capitol. The Hunger Games. She’d won, right? </p><p>An unpleasant memory of two Peacekeepers advancing towards her in the arena told a different story. </p><p>The fear came flooding back. They didn’t want her as a Victor, they wanted her dead. (In a hospital?) She wasn’t <em>enough</em> for them, and they were going to kill her. (Why did they fix you?) <em>No; leave, now. Go.</em> </p><p>Her right arm: Riin could twitch it, but she needed more than that. Her muscles strained, and she felt herself trying to lift the limb, but it was stuck. She tried her legs. Also stuck. Trapped. </p><p>And then she saw the restraints, secured around her not-broken arm, legs, and torso. She had to get out; she couldn't get out. </p><p>Riin ignored the pain and yanked again at her broken arm, trying to pull it free, trying to pull herself free. She tugged at the restraints and thrashed her limbs and body and head — her mind was clear and she needed to get <em>out — </em></p><p>Instead, she went under. </p><p>____</p><p>When she woke again, she wasn’t alone. She felt the presence of another person immediately, and sat up as much as she could in her bed (bed? Soft, warm). Lounging in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to her soft, warm medical bed  sat Janus Shyle. Her mentor. Fellow Victor. </p><p>Riin blinked at him with confusion.</p><p>Janus meant safety, aide. He would help her. But this presence didn’t mix with her earlier deduction of danger, her instinct to escape. </p><p>Seeing that she was awake, Janus met her gaze, offering her one of his not-reassuring-but-meant-to-be smiles. Somehow, it did the trick. “Janus, help me out of here,” she rasped, voice cracking from disuse.</p><p>“You’re not in the arena anymore, Thariin,” he said, the cool baritone of his voice washing over her.</p><p>“No, out of — out of <em>here,”</em> she said, though with each word she became more uncertain. “They’re trying to…” she trailed off. When she said it out loud, it started to sound ridiculous.</p><p>Janus didn’t mock her, though. “You’re safe here,” he said.</p><p>The Games were over. She’d made it out. She was safe. She wanted so badly to believe it. </p><p>Riin bit her lip nervously and then sucked in a sharp breath; something wasn’t quite right. She tasted blood in her mouth, what— </p><p>Running her tongue along her teeth, Riin found that two of them were inexplicably longer — and <em>sharper</em> — than the rest. Instantly, she was thrown back to the tribute parade (had that only been a couple weeks ago?) and her Indigo Widow costume with its false fangs. </p><p>Except she couldn't take these off, they were <em>real;</em> someone had gone and take  out her <em>teeth</em> without even asking. Riin’s eyes widened, and she brought her right hand up to cover her mouth. </p><p>Janus caught her realization, and Riin saw an apologetic look flash across his face. “I’m sorry, Thariin, they put those in before I had even been allowed in the room.” He handed her a glass of water and Riin rinsed the blood from her mouth. </p><p>“Who,” she rasped dangerously.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Janus admitted. “They also had to implant synthetic bone in your left arm, which is why it’s taking so long to heal.” He nodded towards the limb in question, still encased in its hardened cast high above her head. “Everything else healed fairly well, even your leg. You still have a slight concussion from being hit with the sword hilt and then getting tasered, and I’m afraid the cameras won’t help in the next few days.”</p><p>Riin got the sense that Janus had thoroughly picked the doctors’ brains upon his visit. She was grateful, as it was hard to remember who had hit her where while her brain had been all fuzzy. A concussion and some sedatives to thank for that, she supposed. “How long until my arm heals?” she asked.</p><p>Standing, Janus walked over to where said arm dangled from the ceiling and pressed a button at her bedside. “The doctor said it will be good enough for your interviews soon, but it will still be a bit sore while the bone heals.” </p><p>Riin grimaced at that, but nodded.</p><p>At the doorway, a silent Avox appeared suddenly with a tray of food, setting it within reach of Riin’s working arm. A bowl of warm mush, which she recognized as her favored cereal breakfast, along with some slices of fruit and a glass of yellow juice. </p><p>“Here, eat,” Janus instructed. “You need to get back on solid foods.”</p><p>Riin didn’t hesitate to oblige, though chewing felt rather strange with her new teeth. Careful not to cut herself on them again, she finished the meal with no small amount of effort, downing the sugary juice last. “Hm, what is this?” </p><p>“Pineapple, I think.” That was something they certainly didn’t have in District Eight. </p><p> Riin tentatively swished the juice around in her mouth. It brought a slight tingling sensation to her tongue. “When is my interview?” she asked. </p><p>Janus removed the tray from her reach and passed it to the Avox. “It’ll be a couple days before you’re healed enough for the cameras,” he said. “They want to wait for your cast to come off.”</p><p>Riin wanted the cast off too. It was <em>heavy,</em> and her arm ached from being held over her head. It tied her to the bed, trapping her here, the hospital, the Capitol. Even when she was healed, she’d never be able to truly leave. <em>Out.</em></p><p>“Get some rest, Thariin,” Janus said reassuringly. “I will be watching over you.”</p><p>Could she trust him? She didn’t have a choice. The cold liquid was back, and she was gone. </p><p>____</p><p>Riin pretended to be asleep when the white-coated doctor arrived. He spoke in a low voice to Janus, still at her bedside. </p><p>Then they both left, and Riin heard her heartbeat quicken on the monitor. The doctor didn’t notice, but Janus did, giving her a backwards glance before he stepped out of her line of vision. </p><p><em>This is it,</em> she thought. <em>This is when they’re going to kill me.</em></p><p>The doctor returned, and this time he noticed the rapid beeping of her heart monitor. “You’re awake now, I see.”</p><p>Riin’s eyes flew open, all pretense gone. The doctor smiled at her, the pinstripe tattoos on his face distorting with the motion. Riin didn’t trust him.</p><p>“We’ll be taking your hard cast off momentarily,” he informed her. “You’ll be given an air cast for a while to help you recover. Unfortunately, we’ll have to put you under for that; wouldn’t want to scare you with the saw.”</p><p><em>Saw?!</em> Riin’s eyes widened in panic. <em>“No,”</em> she moaned weakly, her complaint useless and desperate. The shrill beeping of the heart monitor heightened her paranoia, and she began to thrash violently.</p><p>The doctor’s expression morphed into one of concern. “Oh dear,” he said, and Riin didn’t hear the rest.</p><p>____</p><p>Riin wasn’t sure what dragged her out of unconsciousness this time, but as soon as her mind rose to the surface, she felt it. Something was off, not quite right. She couldn’t tell what; she hadn’t opened her eyes yet. That might be a good idea. </p><p>As soon as she did, she saw it. Sitting next to her bedside, in the chair where Janus should have been, was Killian Aquila himself. </p><p><em>Go. Run,</em> her instincts told her. </p><p>But she didn’t (couldn’t). Instead, she blinked away the remainder of her drowsiness and looked him straight in the eye. </p><p>He gave her a pleasant smile, his sharp features distorting into the gesture. “Miss Kres. I must offer my congratulations.”</p><p>Riin didn’t respond immediately. Why was he here? Did he do this with all of the Victors? She sat up a little straighter. At least her restraints were gone — and so was the cast, she realized, glancing at the puffy splint now wrapped around her arm. That must be the air cast the pinstriped doctor had promised. </p><p>Aquila was still waiting for her. “Thank you,” Riin said roughly, her voice still scratchy from lack of use.</p><p>The Head Gamemaker seemed prepared for that, as he offered her a steaming cup of tea, produced from who-knows-where. Riin took it warily, the scent of lavender wafting up to her nose. “I thought you might like this,” he said graciously.</p><p>Like hell she was going to fall for that.</p><p>Without breaking eye contact, Riin deliberately poured the contents of Aquila’s gift onto the hospital floor. The porcelain cup followed a heartbeat later, shattering into a million little pieces upon contact with the hard tile. Aquila didn’t even flinch. Riin returned his smile with one of her own. “What are you really here for, Mr. Aquila?” </p><p>How vulnerable she was right now, weak from her wounds and tied to the hospital; he knew it too. His presence here was deliberate. “I congratulate all of my Victors, Miss Kres. All nineteen of them.”</p><p><em>‘My Victors.’</em> Riin didn’t like the way he said that. </p><p>Almost unbidden, Janus’s words from after the training session rang in her ears. <em>A tribute can only get so far.</em></p><p>This was it. This was as far as she could get. She’d played Aquila’s Games and won — no, that was the wrong word. ‘Survived.’ The real winner was sitting in the chair next to her, examining her with his ever-observant gaze. “I’ll offer you my own congratulations, then,” Riin said as evenly as her voice allowed. “For winning again.”</p><p>He actually laughed at that, a rather unpleasant laugh, and the smile on his face now was far from the surface-level appeasement of earlier. “Well, I’m glad I don’t need to explain that to you.”</p><p>“Of course not.”</p><p>Strangely, it was this — not Janus’s attempts at reassurance — that finally convinced her she was safe, relatively speaking, of course. In the very least, they weren’t going to kill her. Aquila had acknowledged her as the Victor. She couldn’t quite see the invisible strings that came attached to that title — and there had to be some — but she would live to deal with them. That was all she needed right now. </p><p>Aquila proceeded with no deliberation. “My thanks especially for handling the District Thirteen boy. That could’ve been quite embarrassing.” </p><p><em>Victor.</em> Riin tensed at the mention of him. Of course it would’ve been embarrassing for Aquila if he’d won, even before the arena, before Victor had bypassed his tracker poison by accident. Riin didn’t say anything. </p><p>“I must admit,” Aquila continued, mindless of her silence. “Watching you in the arena almost made me want to try it myself. Almost.” He chuckled. “Simply a natural curiosity, I think, to see if I could make it past my own... machinations.” </p><p>It really was just a game to him. Riin imagined herself drawing a knife across his throat, like she’d done to Victor, to Briar, to the others. “Do you think you’d make it past mine?” she dared to ask. </p><p>He gave a small smile at that, standing to his feet. “I suppose we’ll never know.”</p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Before you ask: yes, I did give Riin vampire teeth. No, I will not take criticism. Jfjf there is a vampire!riin au jumping around my head somewhere though, I gotta say. It’s just Fitting. Idk, I figured that since Collins did something similar with Enobaria, it wasn’t too much of a stretch. Also, aesthetic. Jfjf </p><p>Anyways. Someone’s having a bit of a struggle adjusting.. I mentioned a while ago that Riin doesn’t like needles and everything that comes with them, but oh Boy she Really doesn’t like them now. Man, going to the dentist is not gonna be a good experience for her now jfjf</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Pretty Lies to Tell Yourself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/PiA2S3sJjk8">Black Bullet</a> by Kidneythieves</p><p> </p><p>  <em>In the eye, in the mirror<br/>I am<br/>A black bullet<br/>In the eye, in the mirror<br/>I am<br/>Alone, alone in this all<br/>Alone, alone in this all</em></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>Riin spent the next couple of days (she was now aware of the passage of time, thanks to Janus) with Doctor Pinstripe and his team of physical therapists, gingerly regaining muscle control over her arm. They did their best to minimize the effects of her concussion as well, changing the lighting in her room to a dim red glow, which was supposed to lessen the strain on her eyes. </p><p>It was interesting, to say the least, spending her dreams bathed in blood and waking up under the red haze. Both were real enough. </p><p>Janus was in the room with her, more often than not. The dark circles under his eyes told her that. They never seemed to disappear. Riin was glad for his presence; she wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if she were stuck alone with Doctor Pinstripe and his team. </p><p>She very much needed Janus’s reassurance that the needles and syringes they stuck her with contained no poisons or harmful substances. Her love of needles had been minimal before, and after Aquila’s tracker poison, it was most definitely in the negatives now. She didn’t trust anything that she didn’t inject herself, and thankfully, Janus had somehow convinced Doctor Pinstripe to allow it. </p><p>It wasn’t long before they deemed her ‘recovered enough’, which meant it was time for her recap and interview. Her arm was still supposed to remain in the bubble cast for the next couple months — Riin would bet that Briar was laughing in her grave at that — but she would be fine without it for the duration of the recap. Just as long as she didn’t trip onstage and re-break it. “You’ll need to wear a splint for the banquet, however,” Doctor Pinstripe instructed. </p><p>
  <em>Banquet?</em>
</p><p>Riin didn’t have time to wonder about that before she was swept out of the hospital by a team of nurses, Janus at her heels. She was able to walk on her own again, and once the nurses were sure she wasn’t going to immediately faceplant without them nearby, they released her into Janus’s care. </p><p>He led her out of the hospital to the elevators where Scilla and Barnabas waited. Seeing their faces again felt surreal, especially Scilla’s metallic tones, which threw light like a sharp blade. Riin’s mouth widened into a smile despite herself. </p><p>“Woah, look at those chompers,” Scilla beamed, lifting Riin’s chin to get a closer look at her new teeth. The grin withered from Riin’s face and she pulled away, trying not to bite her lip. </p><p>“Come on,” Janus said quietly, and Scilla ushered them onto the elevator up to where Riin would be met with her prep team to be readied for the recap of the Games. Loki was there when they stepped out as well, along with a number of cameras, the flashing lights immediately starting an uncomfortable buzzing in Riin’s head. </p><p>Back inside the flat, finally. Riin hadn’t thought she’d ever see this flat again. Before the Games, anytime she’d tentatively hoped to win, she’d never dared to think this far ahead, but here they were. She half-expected to see Karl Taylor come strolling out of his tribute quarters to greet them with a friendly wave. <em>Taylor…</em> Hell, he’d hardly even crossed her mind since she watched him die. </p><p>Janus dimmed the apartment lights, for which Riin was grateful. She hadn’t realized it had been bothering her until it stopped. </p><p>Dinner, quiet by Capitol standards, was almost too much for Riin to think about. Absently, she helped herself to a bowl of broth, stealthily sliding her fingers around the handle of a butter knife at her place. Like it had in the arena, the possession of the knife brought her slight relief. Next to her, Janus wordlessly placed a warm roll on her plate. He didn’t say anything about the knife. </p><p>Across the table, Loki couldn’t stop grinning from excitement. “This is the first time I’ve been a Victor’s stylist,” he said, almost boastful. Riin rolled her eyes, content to tune him out for the rest of the night. The next thing out of his mouth, however, changed her mind completely. “How do you like your new teeth? It was my idea, you know.” </p><p>Riin blinked as his words fully registered. The way he watched her eagerly said he clearly expected a ‘thank you’, his outstretched hand gesturing towards her mouth. </p><p> An ugly snarl made its way onto Riin’s features, and Loki’s expression faltered. <em>I’ll show you how much I like my teeth.</em> Before he could say anything else, she lunged, the butter knife gripped tightly in her hand. </p><p>Luckily for the stylist, Janus was faster; he grabbed Riin’s wrist, wrenching the knife from her grasp. It saved Loki a stab in the heart, but his arm was still within range, unfortunately — for him. Riin, straining against Janus’s grip, did what any sane person in her situation would’ve done and sank her shiny new teeth into the meaty flesh of her stylist’s hand. </p><p>Loki yelped in surprised pain, and Riin bit down harder. The sound of a deep belly laugh came from somewhere in the room, but Riin ignored it, too focused on the feeling of Loki’s muscles twitching and straining in her grip. </p><p><em>“Thariin, no!”</em> Suddenly, a hand wrapped around her jaw, squeezing forcefully like one would a misbehaving dog until Riin released her hold on the stylist. Janus again, she realized, eyes flashing as she came to her senses. She caught sight of Loki cradling his hand before Janus jerked her chin away from the stylist’s direction to look his charge in the eye, releasing her once he had her full attention. Riin opened her mouth to argue the impending scolding, but he cut her off. “Don’t even start Thariin. Look at me; you do <em>not</em> do that here, do you understand?”</p><p>Riin wiped the blood from her mouth, folding her arms. Janus’s expression was grave, but she didn’t care. The sound of Loki still crying in the background was satisfying enough for her to disagree. </p><p>Janus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Someone had called in an Avox, and they quietly escorted Loki from the apartment, presumably to get his hand stitched up. “This,” Janus said, his tone dangerous, “is not an argument. I don’t care if you think he deserved it; you <em>will not</em> do that again.” Behind him, Scilla and Barnabas snickered at something on the escort’s portable cellular. “Scilla, delete those photos immediately,” Janus ordered, his focus still directed at Riin.</p><p>With a roll of her eyes, Scilla withdrew the cellular. “Sure thing, boss,” she said sarcastically, shooting Riin a wink. The corner of Riin’s mouth twitched in amusement.  </p><p>Clearing his throat, Janus recovered the new Victor’s attention. “Thariin, do you understand me?”</p><p>Riin huffed in relentment. “Sure, fine.”</p><p>The remainder of the meal passed in an awkward silence; Riin’s mouth was full as she washed down the taste of blood with the rest of her broth. Things picked up again when the prep team arrived, Loki mysteriously not among them. The Capitolites bustled her away, slapping a layer of makeup onto her face and twisting her hair into a bun at the base of her neck. She tried to grab another knife as she went, just in case, but Janus shot her a warning glare. At some point, Loki made a reappearance, a noticeable bandage wrapped around his hand. He glanced at her warily, smartly staying well out of biting range as the prep team did the entirety of the work. </p><p>The dress they’d brought with them slipped over Riin’s frail figure too easily; light padding had been added underneath the fabric again, this time in an attempt to replace the weight she’d lost in the arena rather than adding unnecessary curves to her body. The length of fabric flowed from the strapless top straight to the floor, threatening to trip her until pointy-eared Walter gifted her with a pair of plain black heels. </p><p>Blankly, she stared at the ensemble in the surrounding mirrors. When Riin was small, she had loved the boldness of the bright red dresses at the designer shops. This one was a vivid burgundy color, the satin shimmering under the lights of her dressing mirror. A white dress covered in blood would’ve had the same effect.</p><p>Last-minute touches: Felix pulled some strands of hair from their tie, positioning them to frame her face; Dua brushed a layer of powder across her nose that almost made her sneeze. “Smile!” she said too brightly, and Riin did, glimpsing her new sharpened teeth for the first time. Like the faux fangs from her parade costume, she had to admit that she was rather fond of the dangerous aura they granted her, though she’d never tell Loki. Through the glass, she sent a threatening glare at the stylist, who flinched away. <em>Good.</em></p><p>Ignoring the prep team’s exclamations and praise, Riin further investigated her reflection. The shadow Dua had put around her eyes brought out their amber color, accentuated by the contrast between her skin tone and the deep gloss on her lips. In the mirror, Janus appeared behind her, all done-up himself in a smart-looking indigo suit. “It’s almost time,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>Riin shot him an apprehensive glance. The recap; she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Right now, all she could think about was the taste of blood lingering on her tongue. </p><p>Gingerly, Janus removed the air cast from Riin’s left forearm. The limb throbbed lightly from the sudden change of pressure, bringing with it a ghost of pain. Riin sucked in a breath. </p><p>From a vial in his pocket, Janus offered her a pill. “To dull the pain,” he said. “And to help you focus during the recap.”</p><p>Riin shook her head. She would do this alone. She <em>was</em> alone, after all. Nobody else had made it out of the arena alive, and this was her burden to deal with. </p><p><em>Burden? You are</em> alive. </p><p>Forcing a purposeful calm over herself, Riin followed her entourage to the area underneath the interview stage where they would rise up on pedestals. Janus held her steady by the elbow, in case she needed his help. She didn’t. </p><p>A deafening roar sounded from above as Marcus Argentus started the program. By titles, he summoned them to the stage: the prep team, the escort, the stylist, the mentor. </p><p>And finally, “Your Victor, Thariin Kres!”</p><p>Not unlike her entry into the arena, Riin rose up to the floor of the stage, willing, <em>demanding </em> herself to remain calm. </p><p>She had survived the Hunger Games. Tonight, Panem honored her Victory. </p><p>A smile found its way onto her features, and Riin focused on this notion, drowning out the flashing lights and cheering crowd. They cheered for her; of course they did. She deserved it.</p><p>Marcus appeared, guiding her — by the right hand, thankfully — to the Victor’s throne. “Thariin, my darling, I’m so glad to have you back on my stage!” </p><p>“Not as glad as I am,” Riin quipped. The pressed-velvet chair sported a much lighter red than her dress, and Riin leaned into it purposefully, propping her right arm against the wooden armrest. </p><p>“Ah, of course, of course!” The host flashed a sheepish grin. “Well, the last time we had you up here — what a night! — you claimed you didn’t come to the Capitol to make friends.” Riin tensed at the memory. Where was he leading her? “I was hoping, now that you’ve won, you’d reconsider my offer of friendship,” he joked.</p><p>Harmless. Riin let out a peal of fake laughter, releasing the tension in her stomach. “I would love to, Marcus!” </p><p>Actually, Riin didn’t ever want to make another friend in her life. But she could play the part. She didn’t mind it, in fact; it was easier to focus on that than other things. </p><p>Marcus returned her laugh, reaching across his chair to briefly clasp her hand. Riin forced down the urge to recoil and hiss, keeping a pleasant smile in place. “Wonderful! Then let’s begin our recap, shall we?”</p><p>Riin smiled in assent, and then the reaping ceremonies began on the large display screen set up for their viewing. Another camera captured Riin’s reactions, and she kept her eyes on it periodically. Right now, her expression displayed only mild interest, having re-watched the reapings many times before the start of the Games. </p><p>Noticeably, the ceremonies paid more attention to herself than the others. Chase, Briar, and Victor got a fair amount of screentime as well, which sent uncomfortable feelings spreading beneath her skin, thankfully unnoticeable to the cameras. </p><p>The events before the Games gave due focus to Riin’s pre-arena alliance, moreso to display her forward-thinking intentions than anything. The training scores, the interviews… Marcus signed regrettably at Chase’s arrogance and laughed along to Riin’s own confidence. They played the important parts of Oriel’s interview too, zooming in on Riin’s reaction in the background; her eyes sparked with a desire for murder that would soon be sated. Riin recalled the feeling of sinking her blade into Oriel’s neck with grim satisfaction.</p><p>She was caught off guard when they played Victor’s interview; it barely even registered as a memory, she’d been so angry at Oriel.</p><p>“So, Victor, think you’ll live up to your name?” Marcus had asked him. </p><p>Victor just smiled sadly. “I hope not.”</p><p>On stage, Riin sucked in a breath as past-Marcus gave the tribute a confused glance. “Oh… well, why not?”</p><p>“It’s not my place to take a person’s life,” he said honestly. “That’s kind of a requirement to win, isn’t it?”</p><p>How had she not taken note of this? Not only had Victor intended to die from the start, he had openly admitted it. And he had the audacity to keep living, right up until the final four, and leave the task of eliminating him to Riin herself. Riin’s jaw clenched ever-so slightly, and she found herself wishing that he’d just stepped off the plate early, if he was so willing to die. </p><p>No matter. Victor was dead, and Riin was alive. The blood on her hands was worth that much.</p><p>The recap moved right on to the beginning of the Games, the Bloodbath. Riin watched intently; she hadn’t gotten the chance to really see it live. </p><p>Chase made it to the Cornucopia first, grabbing a sword and jabbing it through Nedda’s chest, who had been reaching for supplies. Stupid. What had motivated her to go right into the thick of it? Chase stabbed someone else as well, Riin couldn’t tell who, and went after Echelle next. She’d gotten to a sword of her own, and it took the help of the District Four male to bring her down. </p><p>Teffrey too; he had a knife sticking out of his leg, but it wasn’t until an arrow landed in his eye that he collapsed. That was what Riin had seen from the bushes, she remembered. They even showed a clip of her watching from the treeline.</p><p>Methodically, the Careers picked off her alliance, Blade cleaving open Melis’s chest with his broadsword, the District Two girl hitting Taylor in the back with an arrow. Riin’s expression was stone. Their actions were deliberate, purposeful. Efficient. Of course, they’d mistakenly let Oriel and herself get away. She’d gotten lucky too, she knew, with Chase’s manipulation of the tracker poison. She never had to face the pack at their height. </p><p>They weren’t the only ones who killed at the Bloodbath. Briar hadn’t been lying about the District Twelve male, and Mira wasn’t idle either. </p><p>Ten deaths; Riin watched with bated breath for what happened next. </p><p>The Careers had cleared the field of tributes, the lucky ones having long since escaped the carnage. The only Career who hadn’t soaked their weapon in blood was the District Three female. </p><p>Chase had noticed as well. “Marcella. You haven’t managed a kill,” he said.</p><p>Marcella stood in the center of the group, surrounded by dead enemies and temporary allies. “Oh-I — it all just happened so fast, I must have…” She trailed off. </p><p>“You’re useless.” She flinched at Chase’s words. He exchanged brief glances with the pack. “Kill her.”</p><p>Immediately, six different weapons penetrated her body. She didn’t even have a chance to scream. </p><p><em>Damn.</em> So Riin had been right; Chase had gotten them to turn on her. Next to her, Marcus let out a low whistle at Chase’s coldness. Riin had to admire the kid. He would’ve made a good Victor. <em>Too bad.</em></p><p>Before the camera changed, it showed Blade removing the fingers of his victims for his vulgar trophies. Riin rolled her eyes. </p><p>Clips of herself running through the forest were interspersed with those of her future allies and enemies: Briar, alone with her mace; Victor with his district partner and the District Seven boy, the latter of whom seemed to be leading; Mira, who had somehow managed to row out to the island unseen by the Careers; and the pack, of course, with Chase at its head. Back to Riin finding Oriel by the river and stalking him silently until the next day, when she struck. </p><p>“First kill,” Marcus pointed out excitedly, as if Riin were able to forget. The action had molded itself into her muscles, becoming a part of who she was, the reason that she was still breathing.</p><p>Aquila’s poison plagued her next, a voice-over in the program explaining the answer to the puzzle to the audience of simple-minded Capitolites. “Each tribute has been injected with a slow-acting poison along with their tracking beacon. The antidote—“ the camera panned to an aerial view of the Cornucopia “—is right before their eyes.” A close-up on one of the yellow muttation flowers; it was crushed under a tribute’s boot — her own, she realized — as she staggered past. “The smaller tributes will see the effects of the poison first.”</p><p>On-screen, Riin had shoved herself between the roots of a large tree. “I have to know,” Marcus said from her right, “what was going through your head at this time?”</p><p><em>Dizziness. Desperation.</em> But that wasn’t what they wanted to hear. “I knew something was wrong,” she said, “and it couldn't have been anything I ate or drank. I had this weird bruise on my arm from the tracker—“ the camera zoomed in to Riin poking at it on-screen “—and I remembered seeing one on Oriel’s arm the day before.”</p><p>“Ah.” Marcus nodded as if it made perfect sense. It had taken a couple of leaps of faith at the time for Riin to draw the conclusion herself. “Very clever,” he said.</p><p>The camera showed who else had solved the puzzle — and who hadn’t. Most hadn’t noticed the poison yet, though Victor’s alliance making a meal of the flowers by pure happenstance brought a smirk to Riin’s lips. </p><p>It faded quickly as a twig cracked and Victor’s head shot up; in their midst, suddenly, were two Careers: Chase and Blade. The intruders were outnumbered, but far from outgunned. In a heartbeat, Chase had driven his sword through Kella’s stomach. Briston from Seven put up more of a fight, but Blade’s broadsword inevitably found its way into his heart. </p><p>Victor was frozen on the ground, his breath coming in gasps and tears spilling from his eyes. Riin frowned. He didn’t run; he’d told her and Briar that he’d outran the Careers. How had he made it out of there alive?</p><p>Blade backed him up against a tree, the point of his sword at Victor’s neck. “Hah, look at this one, Chase. He’s about to wet himself!” he crowed, laughing at Victor’s obvious fear. “Think we should give the audience a little show?”</p><p>Victor’s eyes widened. “No, please! You can just kill me, if that’s alright,” he said, trembling with terror.</p><p>Chase chuckled. “You’re Victor, right?” Victor nodded wordlessly, and the Career scoffed. “Pathetic. You’re not worth the name.”</p><p>“I’ll just kill him, then?” Blade interjected, shoving his sword a bit closer to Victor’s neck. </p><p>Chase was silent for a beat. “No.” Blade gave his ally a quizzical look. “I want to see how far he makes it,” he said, wearing what could only be described as an evil grin. </p><p>Victor looked horrified at his response, opening his mouth to speak. Blade got there first. “But, dude—“</p><p>“Go get your trophies, Blade. Before the hovercraft comes,” Chase ordered, and Blade obeyed. Sinking into a crouch next to Victor, Chase lowered his voice, out of Blade’s earshot. “Remember this,” he hissed. “You won’t take my Victory from me, now will you?” </p><p>Victor, still trembling, shook his head seriously. “No, sir.”</p><p>“Good. The next time I see you, I’ll carve your eyeballs from your skull. Now get out,” Chase spat.</p><p>Victor didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted into the forest like a startled deer, and Chase was left alone with Blade at the campsite. </p><p>From her comfortable place on the Victor’s throne, Riin stared at the screen in shock. He had lied to her. Victor had lied, to her <em>face,</em> about how he’d escaped the Careers. And she’d believed him. </p><p>Furious. Riin was furious. Nevermind how many fatal lies she had told him herself, it was <em>different</em> when she was on the other end. An ugly desire blossomed in the pit of her stomach; she wanted to kill him all over again, feel his blood soaking through her clothes, look him in the eye and—</p><p>Marcus shot her a glance, but held back from comment by the expression on Riin’s face.</p><p>On the screen, Chase noticed a cluster of yellow muttation flowers that had been picked and prepared for a meal. He shoved them into his pocket when Blade wasn’t looking.</p><p>The camera flashed between Victor stumbling through the forest, the Careers regrouping at the Cornucopia, Briar beginning to feel the effects of the tracker poison. Mira, sleeping peacefully in a hammock she’d found inside a little shack on her island. Riin, waking. The girl from Twelve, also swaying unsteadily from the poison. Victor running into Briar early in the morning, and then the two of them into Riin. </p><p>The tracker poison began to take a toll on the rest of the tributes. Mira and Chase figured out the trick, the latter withholding the information from his allies. Twelve didn't, curling up into a miserable, whining ball on the forest floor. </p><p>Riin convinced Briar to eat the antidote. And Victor lied to her. He looked so uncomfortable doing so; how had she not noticed?</p><p>The Widows, so many Widows, swarming the campsite. It was a miracle that only Victor had gotten bit. </p><p>Twelve died from the poison, as she hadn’t managed to think through the puzzle. The program barely paid her any attention; it was a boring death, after all. </p><p>The pause in excitement for Riin and her allies during their period of recovery was due to terror in another part of the arena: from the water surrounding Mira’s lonely island, a large, scaly mutt reared its ugly head, descending upon the tribute with a fury. It was as big as the girl’s shack, which it easily destroyed with a sweep of its spiked tail. The island wasn’t very big; by the look on Mira’s face, she knew she was trapped. However, she had three deadly spears, and one of them soon found its way into the creature’s eye. For now, Mira was safe.</p><p>In the meantime, Riin and Victor scouted the Cornucopia, and Riin’s plot against the Careers began in earnest. </p><p>“Ah— this was my favorite part!” Marcus grinned excitedly.</p><p>Riin returned his smile with a flash of teeth. “Me too.”</p><p>Chase had been presumably hunting for Mira when the cannons started to go off; he’d been too far east of the lake, according to the aerial map, to make it back to the Cornucopia in time to catch her. </p><p>It wasn’t nearly as all-consuming an experience as reliving the memory in her dreams — no scent of death, no copper taste on her tongue, only the visuals. Riin smoothed her hands down the skirt of her dress; it was almost like they were slick with blood again. Propping her right elbow on the arm of the chair again, she rested her chin in her palm, not bothering to hide her snicker as Chase punted Blade’s decapitated head like a soccer ball.</p><p>In the down time after the massacre, the program unexpectedly switched track from the arena, and suddenly she was staring at her brother’s face on the screen, clearly being interviewed by a crew of Capitolites. She supposed they had only managed to squeeze those into the three-hour viewing due to the sudden lack of Career tribute drama. Even then, it was only Riin’s family. And… friends? </p><p>Even more unexpected than seeing Iden’s face was seeing Cosima Herkimer’s. <em>What the hell?</em> </p><p>The interviewer asked Iden about Riin’s friends back home, and Cosima practically shoved him out of the way to get her pretty little face in front of the cameras, insisting that “I’m the closest friend she had!” That was rich, considering they weren’t friends at all. Riin was even more insulted to realize that Cosima wasn’t exactly <em>wrong</em> about that. It seems Riin’s time in the arena had only blurred the line between friends and enemies.</p><p><em>Well, if Cosima wants to lick my boots when I get home,</em> Riin mused, <em>I’m hardly going to stop her.</em> It would be a nice change. </p><p>The rest of the interviews weren't long, just enough to remind the audience (and Riin) that she had people to come home to. She didn’t like the way her nemesis (friend?) was hanging on to her brother, though, and judging by the annoyed frown on Iden’s face, neither did he.</p><p>And then there was no more time for happy reunions; on camera, Riin and her allies slammed through the trees away from the saber-toothed cat and right into Mira’s path. Though, it wasn’t long before Mira was running and Riin and Briar were in pursuit. </p><p>Her death was just as brutal the second time, but Riin only paid attention to Victor. Victor, who’d dared to raise a hand against her, who’d <em>lied</em> to her. If she slipped concentration right now, she could almost feel his arms around her again, squeezing her chest like a vice until she couldn’t breathe. Riin watched, her neutral expression never breaking. </p><p>The program showed only brief shots of the remaining tributes shivering in the rain; boring. They did, however, play out the entire late-night conversation between Riin and Victor, and if she wasn’t on-edge before, she certainly was now. </p><p>She tried not to listen to the exchange before her. It was too… personal. Of course, the whole nation had already witnessed it; there was nothing she could do about that. Instead, she focused on digging her nails into the wooden armrests and the spike of pain the movement induced in her left arm. Only when dawn came to the arena and Victor’s lifeblood turned the dirt red did she release her grip. <em>Almost over.</em> </p><p>Was it guilt she felt, for Victor’s death? Well, obviously it was her fault. Whatever she felt, though, seemed to have bypassed guilt and could only be washed away with fresh blood. </p><p>Speaking of, someone had definitely edited the final fight between Riin, Briar, and Chase to be more dramatic. Or had it actually been that way? Raging flames, deadly arrows, a bloody mace… It was the camera angles, she realized. It was the way they played it: Chase setting up the trap, his expression as Riin’s shield struck him square in the gut, the perfectly-timed glint of Briar’s mace as it drove through his chin. Riin certainly hadn’t noticed the cameras at the time, as she’d been too busy fighting for her life. They couldn't capture it all, though. The stench of smoke-heavy air, the erratic pounding in her chest, the bones shifting under her skin as Briar’s morningstar made contact with her arm…</p><p>The feed cut off when Riin, standing tall — for a brief second, at least — was announced the Victor. No retching, no attacking the Peacekeepers sent to retrieve her; that probably hadn’t looked good. </p><p>Again, Marcus proclaimed her the winner of the One Hundred and Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games. </p><p>With her chin up, Riin stood from her throne, accepting the applause with a smile and a flash of her new teeth. Alive, only because twenty-five others were dead. </p><p>President Valorius approached her, accompanied by his young wife, who carried the coveted Victor’s crown on a bed of red velvet. Twenty five people, tributes; nine of whom had died at her blades.</p><p>With his white-gloved hands, the president gently placed the golden crown atop Riin’s jet-black hair. She smiled. </p><p>
  <em>“He doesn’t deserve to win,” she’d told Victor on the eve of his death, her thoughts occupied by Chase at the time. </em>
</p><p><em>“Do you?” he’d asked in return.</em> </p><p>The Capitolites cheered, shrill and deafening. The crown was cold and heavy on her head, but her feet moved as light as air. </p><p><em>Yes,</em> she thought. <em>Yes, I do.</em> </p><p>____</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you thought I was gonna give Riin some fancy new teeth and then Not have her bite someone, you’ve got another thing coming. Actually, according to the laws of Drama, it would be illegal not to. Jfjf </p><p>Anyways, I’m curious to your guys’s thoughts on Riin’s thoughts. She’s, uh. She’s got some interesting thoughts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. The End of the Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter song: <a href="https://youtu.be/byCE07985oE">You Can’t Stop a Bullet</a> by Black Light Burns</p><p> </p><p>  <em>You can’t<br/>You can’t<br/>You can’t stop a bullet<br/>I’m giving you my trigger<br/>But you better never pull it</em></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>It seemed like the Victor’s crown had barely graced Riin’s brow before it was ripped off, and she was hustled offstage to be prepared for her banquet. Janus gave her a look when she’d asked to wear the crown to the party; apparently she wasn’t even allowed to keep it. Riin huffed in disappointment.</p><p>At least Loki had given her a pair of silky red opera gloves to match her dress; for the left one, a splint for her broken arm had been artfully concealed within the fabric.</p><p>Observing the crowd of Capitolites from Marcus Argentus’s stage was one thing; lowering herself to walk amongst them was another ordeal entirely. For some reason, everyone felt that they had the right to touch her. With every step she took, someone grasped at her hands, caressed the fabric of her dress, tugged at a stray lock of hair. Janus placed a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her from snapping at anyone. She had to be <em>nice,</em> he’d told her.</p><p>She couldn’t even escape them at the food tables, nodding and shaking her head around a mouthful of hors d’œuvres. Washing them down with a sweet berry-filled pink liquid, Riin plastered a fake smile onto her face. </p><p>From her left, a blue-toned woman with bubbles for hair suddenly grabbed Riin’s arm — the broken one. Throbs of pain echoed through her bone, and Riin <em>hissed,</em> flashing her teeth at the idiotic Capitolite. The woman recoiled in shock, but before she could say anything, Janus swept in. “My apologies, Miss Capula. Thariin’s arm is still healing, I’m afraid. It was quite a serious injury, if you remember.”</p><p>“Oh! Oh dear, did I hurt you?” Capula gasped, her hand covering her mouth in fright. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!”</p><p>A horribly phony laugh forced its way out of Riin’s mouth. “Oh, no, Miss Capula. Please, don’t worry about it.” <em>I’m going to shove those stupid plastic bubbles down your pretty little throat, that’s all.</em> Riin’s smile was sickly sweet; Janus steered her away smartly.</p><p>Belatedly, Riin realized she should be trying to commit these people and their names to memory; they were among the most influential citizens in the Capitol, after all. Even Scilla had expressed excitement over attending the banquet, as escorts were only invited if one of their tributes wins. There were so many, though, their colorful faces and high-pitched voices molding together to make her head swim. Maybe there was some catalog or magazine that she could investigate once she got back to Eight. </p><p>Releasing a sigh of frustration, she let Janus guide her towards a cluster of relatively normal-looking people, by Capitol standards. Her fellow Victors; they must be. </p><p>Janus first introduced her to Sascha Teng, a tall woman with close-cropped black-brown hair. District Nine; mentor to either Echelle or Melis. Her greeting was cordial, but eyes didn’t quite meet Riin’s, distracted by whatever debate simmered inside her head.</p><p>Then there was Tsiganis Pyrion, the handsome young Career from District One. He’d won only four years ago, brutally efficient with a sword in hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Thariin,” he said smoothly. “A pity about my tribute, but there’s always next year, hm? We’re due for another Career Victory soon.” </p><p><em>Another Career Victory…</em> She wondered if the Capitol ever fixed the Games so that one of them won. <em>Would they even need to?</em></p><p>“Lay off her, Sig,” came the gravelly yet pleasant voice of someone at his elbow. Tsiganis glowered at the nickname, stepping aside to reveal the one and only Jezephel Xoreen, Victor of the most recent Quarter Quell.</p><p>Riin’s eyes widened. “It’s an honor, Miss Xoreen,” she said with a bow. </p><p>Jezephel barked a laugh. She looked like she hadn’t grown an inch since she was twelve, though her face seemed to hold more than her thirty year’s worth. “Don’t worry, dear; I won’t be going anywhere soon. I’ve got years ahead of me, and so do you.” Riin smiled at her words. That, she did. “And Janus! You don’t have to avoid me, you know.”</p><p>Janus mumbled something unintelligible, not keen on getting roped into conversation with the tiny woman. </p><p>The hairs at the back of Riin’s neck stood up suddenly, and she turned her head to meet the eyes of two grey-haired Victors, who were staring right at her. Realizing they’d been caught, the man glanced away sheepishly, though the woman beckoned her towards them. Leaving Janus stranded with the District Eleven Victor, Riin cautiously made her way towards them.</p><p>While age had rounded the woman’s form and creased the skin around her face, there was no hiding the cunning in her eyes, her careful expression. The way she carried herself reminded Riin of her mother in her Peacekeeper’s uniform, straight-backed and no-nonsense. “The Victor’s crown suits you well, child,” the woman intoned neutrally. </p><p>Riin bristled inwardly at her words — she was hardly a child anymore — but plastered a pleasant smile to her face. “Thank you, Ms…?”</p><p>“Proxima Greer; District Three. Mentor to Chase Vesto. And this is Reishi Herschel of District Thirteen.” </p><p><em>Oh, great.</em> Now that the short, twitchy man had a name, Riin recognized him. District Thirteen only had one Victor, after all. </p><p>Riin could honestly say that these were the last people that she wanted to be stuck in conversation with. Surreptitiously, she snuck a glance at her surroundings, looking for a way out. </p><p>Proxima folded her hands behind her back, ignoring Riin’s discomfort. “Chase was the best tribute we’ve had in a while,” she continued. “Top of the class at the Institute for the past five years.” <em>The Institute.</em> Career school, in other words, and whatever else they taught the District Three tributes. Riin opened her mouth to defend herself, but Proxima cut her off. “Oh, don’t worry; we Victors try not to hold what we did in the arena against each other. Well, I do, at least.” One look at Reishi’s suddenly hard-set expression said he didn’t quite feel the same. </p><p>“That’s good to hear,” Riin said, pretending not to notice. She wasn’t planning on apologizing for anything. </p><p>Reishi fiddled with the pin on his lapel; a bird of some sort. “We all have to live with it,” he said, his voice lowering. “Isn’t that enough?” </p><p>Riin’s smile almost faltered. </p><p>The sound of footsteps alerted Riin to a newcomer, unexpectedly audible over the din of the crowd due to their proximity; she saw Reishi’s eyes widen at the new presence. Turning around to face her savior from the awkward conversation, Riin came face-to-face with the President of Panem’s young wife, Xerya Valorius.</p><p>Her ash-brown hair was twisted into a much more elaborate updo than during the crowning ceremony, and she’d changed her dress too. Riin couldn’t remember what she’d worn then, but it certainly hadn’t been the intricately-embroidered indigo ball gown that graced her form now. Indigo seemed to be all the rage in the Capitol. “Forgive my interruption,” she said, her voice light and airy, “but I’ve been really looking forward to the chance to speak with our newest Victor.”</p><p>“Of course,” Proxima said, ceding her captive towards the aristocrat.</p><p>Xerya held out a hand to Riin. “Dance with me?” </p><p>Refusing would be a death sentence; Riin took her hand, paying no mind to the ache in her formerly injured calf and the pinch in her toes from the shoes she wore.</p><p>Thankfully, this type of dance was little more than stepping in a circle with her partner, not something that required much mental or physical effort. Xerya guided their path with a light hand on Riin’s lower back. </p><p>Offhandedly, Riin wondered what had led the president to select her as his wife. She was certainly pretty, but compared to the other Capitolites, she was rather dull, lacking the colorful body modifications and noticeable tattoos that painted the majority of them. Maybe that was what made her stand out. </p><p>“I had my wedding dress made in District Eight, you know,” Xerya said conversationally. Of course Riin knew. Everyone in District Eight knew; you’d have to be dead not to. </p><p>Riin remembered the garment clearly, covered in pearls imported from District Four and hand-stitched lace from Eight, with a train that had trailed for meters behind the bride. The wedding had only been last year, a mandatory televised event that had been much more well-received than the annual Hunger Games. “It took more than six months to make,” Riin said. “Well worth the effort.”</p><p>With a smile of thanks, Xerya pressed her palm to Riin’s in accordance to the dance; a quick twirl sent Xerya’s gown flaring out in a delicate spiral before they resumed their steps. “It was surprisingly heavy,” she noted. “Fitting, I suppose.”</p><p> Riin hummed in agreement. “I can imagine,” she said, remembering the weight of her parade costume. “So, do you enjoy running Panem?”</p><p> An almost-cautious laugh huffed from Xerya’s lips. “I don’t,” she said, raising a lightly-stenciled eyebrow. “Run Panem, that is.” The unsaid ‘yet’ hung in the air between them; or was that just Riin’s imagination? “We have our beauties and our horrors, like every other country in history. I’m sure it would be quite a burden.”</p><p>“Panem loves its horrors,” Riin said neutrally. A fact, not an opinion. The presidency certainly seemed like a breeze in comparison to the Hunger Games, from her current point of view, at least. She paused. “You almost look young enough to be a tribute yourself.”</p><p>Xerya’s pleasant smile faltered by a hair. “Well, we all have our Games to play,” she said, her tone just as neutral. “You’ll find that out soon enough.” </p><p>Their dance ended with the song, and Xerya disappeared — to find her husband, she said — leaving Riin with a mess of confused thoughts and a pit in her stomach. </p><p>What did she mean, Riin would ‘find out soon enough’? Hadn’t she already won her Games? </p><p>Almost at once, Riin’s previous post-arena paranoia seemed to come crashing down, threatening to crush her under the pressure. The attempts at reassurance from Janus, the security she’d felt at Aquila’s confirmation of her Victory… All at once it was thrown into question. <em>It doesn’t end with the arena, does it?</em></p><p>Drifting over to a food-laden table, Riin covertly slid a butter knife into the sleeve of her glove, comforted by its presence. She had no intentions of using it, of course, but Xerya’s words rattled her. To hide the action, Riin picked up a small plate of spice-filled dumplings — Janus had given her one earlier, and she’d been on the lookout for more ever since — and more of that sweet-smelling drink with various colored berries floating in the pink liquid. It tasted vaguely of fruit and mostly of pure concentrated sugar, which Riin would’ve detested under normal circumstances. She stealthily snagged a couple more, sipping at the drink in an attempt to calm herself. </p><p>Suddenly, Riin was very aware that she was alone among the Capitolites. Too many people, too much noise... Usually, she was able to slip through large crowds with ease, passing under the noses of the taller adults. Now, however, her presence created a sort of slow-moving bottleneck with the way that everyone she encountered tried to catch and hold her attention. Their efforts were for naught; almost desperately, she scanned for Janus in the crowd, missing his guiding hand. Was he still trapped in conversation with Jezephel? Riin had no hope of telling from her height. </p><p>Instead, she managed to catch Killian Aquila’s eye, of all people. He greeted her from across the room with a cordial smile, the cluster of Capitolites surrounding him turning their heads to follow his gaze. Despite what Riin knew — and had experienced firsthand — of Aquila’s cruelty, she felt more uneasy under the almost-predatory scrutiny of his peers. <em>Janus. Where’s Janus?</em> Riin’s head started to pound with dizziness; she took a sip of her drink to steady herself, not daring to break Aquila’s stare on the off chance that she accidentally made eye contact with the people surrounding him. </p><p>A gentle weight landed suddenly on Riin’s shoulder, and she whipped around, clumsily reaching for the knife hidden in her glove before realizing it belonged to the person she’d been looking for. </p><p>Releasing her, Janus let out a sigh, holding out an expectant hand. </p><p>Riin frowned at him. “What?” she asked indignantly.</p><p>“The <a href="https://youtu.be/Szhrn-nQe5E">knife</a>, Thariin. I thought I made myself clear earlier,” he said, on the edge of patience.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Thariin.”</p><p>Riin huffed a breath through her nose. “Fine,” she said, passing Janus the butter knife handle-first. He slid it onto a passing Avox’s serving tray, where it whirled out of sight. Gone forever. Scowling in frustration, Riin downed the dregs of the pink liquid in her glass. </p><p>“It’s not smart to run off like you did just now,” Janus continued. “Not here, especially. I — wait, what are you drinking?”</p><p>She shrugged, grinning as the motion caused her to sway pleasantly. “Dunno. But what do you think she meant? When she said that?”</p><p>Janus snatched the empty glass from Riin’s hands, sniffing it cautiously. “What are you talking about, Thariin? And how many of these did you have?” he asked sternly. </p><p>“Like, three or five, I dunno,” Riin said, irritated. Wasn’t he paying attention? “And Mrs. Valorius, obviously! What did she mean?”</p><p>His eyes widened at the name. “You spoke to her? What did she tell you?”</p><p>“She said I — oh.” Unexpectedly, Riin’s stomach lurched, made worse by the spinning in her head that had previously caused her amusement. Janus’s eyebrows furrowed at her, and Riin shook her head, covering her mouth with a hand as she felt bile rising in her throat. </p><p>Janus understood immediately, hustling her from behind as they parted through the crowd with surprising speed. Down the hall, around a corner; he practically kicked down the door to the toilettes, startling a handful of Capitol women who were retouching their powder. Just in time, too; the fruity drink made a reappearance with a surprising vengeance. Janus patted her back reassuringly, pushing the stray hairs from the new Victor’s face as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. </p><p>
  <em>“Fuck.”</em>
</p><p>“I should’ve told you to stay away from the drinks,” Janus said with a grimace, pulling a glass of water from thin air and offering it to her. </p><p>He instructed her to take it easy for the rest of the night, and Riin was only too happy to oblige. Through some kind of miracle, Janus managed to charm the banquet-goers into letting them leave a little early, stating that Riin’s injuries were still catching up to her. It wasn’t exactly a lie either. Her right calf hurt more than earlier (the heels hadn’t helped her there), and the dregs of her concussion weren’t doing her any favors. </p><p>Feeling almost as exhausted as if she’d been back in the arena, Riin just managed to shed her dress before slipping underneath the pile of oversized plush pillows that had lain untouched in her room at the training center. </p><p>The next morning, Janus again offered Riin a couple of small, orange pills to go with her light breakfast of warm cereal. Riin refused, despite the pounding in her head that had only gotten worse since the night before. “It’s only aspirin,” he reassured her. With a sigh, she relented. </p><p>Today, she would return to District Eight. First, however, she had to get through the final interview. </p><p>Loki arrived with her prep team and their bags of makeup, body oils, and accessories. And of course, Riin’s outfit. The prep team couldn’t hold back their chatter this time around, though Loki maintained a solid distance from the conversation and the new Victor. Riin’s banquet was the most prestigious party that Felix and Walter had ever attended; they bubbled with latent excitement as they touched up her fingernails and styled her hair into a classic high ponytail. Dua rolled her eyes at their childishness, brushing elegant shadows onto Riin’s eyelids.</p><p>The outfit was fairly simple, thankfully. Constructed of a somewhat stiff but not uncomfortable black fabric, the dress rode up to her neck and down her arms in fitted sleeves, the hem of its skirt resting modestly above her knees. Concealed in her left sleeve was a splint for her arm, similar to the gloves from the night before. And around her waist, an indigo sash. Not the one she’d brought into the arena, though; she hadn’t seen that one since tying it around Blade’s still-bleeding throat, where it could stay for all she cared. Lastly, Dua placed a rudimentary string of pearls around her neck, proclaiming her camera-ready.</p><p>In less than five minutes, Riin found herself sitting in a plush velvet chair across from Marcus Argentus in some kind of studio inside the training center. The bright lights and dancing shadows flickered across her vision, doing absolutely nothing to assuage the remnants of her concussion. At least this interview wasn’t live. A cameraman counted down silently with his fingers, and Marcus began the show. “We have with us today our newest Victor, the one and only Indigo Widow! Welcome back, Miss Thariin Kres!”</p><p>She returned the greeting politely. <em>Just get this thing over with.</em> The exchange was mundane at first, not requiring much thinking or attention on Riin’s end. Some compliments to her outfit, how was she doing, and all that. Riin kept her expression pleasant but still attentive, not wanting to be caught off-guard. </p><p>It was a good thing she did. “I understand that some district teams often find difficulties in dealing with new Victors,” Marcus began, causing Riin to tense. “Nevertheless, I think I must’ve spat out my drink when I saw this photo yesterday.” With that, an image appeared on a projector in front of them: Riin, motion-blurred, with her teeth latched onto Loki’s hand, barely being held back by a frazzled-looking Janus. The poor quality of the picture — it must’ve been hurriedly taken by Scilla, she assumed — only added to the comedic effect, and Riin couldn’t hide her snort of laughter, despite the potentially-damning consequences. Marcus glanced at her, one finely-stenciled eyebrow raised in amusement. “I’ve been dying to know what made you, ah, go on the offensive there, so to say.” </p><p>Thankfully, Marcus’s tone was jovial; like Scilla, Barnabas, and herself, he clearly found the incident humorous. Still, Riin knew it was a fine line between whether the rest of the Capitol saw her actions as simply residual post-arena stress or uncontrollable and deranged madness. Well, the truth certainly wouldn’t help her case. “My stylist, Loki; he kept asking about my new… dental implants,” she started.</p><p>“Ah, yes, I saw them!” Marcus exclaimed. “They look truly marvelous, my dear!”</p><p>At his behest, Riin flashed a smile to show the cameras, ignoring the urge to try them out again. “He wanted to know how sharp they were, you see, and… I thought it would be better to demonstrate.”</p><p>In her mind’s eye, she could practically see Janus face-palming; maybe she should’ve gone with the truth. Marcus, on the other hand, let loose a genuine laugh. “Oh, that’s brilliant! Your poor stylist definitely found out the hard way!” His tone switched to one of faux concern for effect. “You’re not going to bite me, though, are you?”</p><p>Riin gave a playful laugh of her own to ease the fake tension. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’ve gotten a little more sleep since then; I think that’s what I needed.”</p><p>“I am certainly glad to hear that,” Marcus said graciously. Then, a light shift in tone as he started to question her about the Games: her alliances (both before and during), her mental process in figuring out the trick behind the tracker poison, her preference for a knife. Riin did her best to explain her reasonings in a clear and logical manner to a Capitol audience’s level of understanding, glossing over the emotional toll the events had inflicted on her. </p><p>“My, it’s been such an exciting year! Thariin, dear, you’ve managed nine kills during your time in the arena; I daresay that’s a record for your district,” Marcus said admiringly. </p><p>“Is it?” Riin asked, curious despite herself. Of course they kept records. </p><p>The host grinned at her in a congratulatory manner. “Certainly, my darling. Followed only by your dear mentor, Janus Shyle, with six kills under his belt. In fact,” he held up a finger, as if racking his brain for a tidbit of information. “I believe this puts you in tenth place for the maximum kill record, with the top score of seventeen kills currently held by the late Lyme Parnass. And look at you, only fourteen years old, and you’ve knocked Tsiganis Pyrion right out of the top ten! Now <em>that</em> is impressive.”</p><p>It was, wasn’t it? Riin smiled at his praise. “Thank you, Marcus,” she said genuinely.</p><p>He segued into a long discussion on the details of her Career pack massacre; he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said it was his favorite part. Maybe it should’ve been sickening, but Riin found it far easier to keep herself under control on this subject than others. It wasn’t hard when she felt no regret for killing the six Careers; had enjoyed it even. </p><p>The same couldn’t be said for her unfortunate ally from District Thirteen, and, despite her efforts, Riin wasn’t prepared for the discussion that came next. “Now, Thariin, I’m sure I speak for the entire Capitol — and maybe even the whole of Panem — when I say this, but we are just <em>dying</em> to know more about your relationship with your dear little ally, Victor. That conversation between the two of you before his death was so incredibly heartbreaking and beautiful,” Marcus said, clutching at his chest for emphasis. </p><p>Riin felt her skin begin to crawl at the sound of Victor’s name; it would forever mar her achievements in its insistence. Right now, she would rather kill him again than open her heart to the whole of Panem about whatever the hell their relationship had been. But that wasn’t an option. “We were good allies,” she started slowly.</p><p>“And nothing more?”</p><p>Riin bit down her irritation. “I didn’t want to make friends, going into the arena,” she continued. “I hadn’t expected it to be a… problem.” She paused, her brain spinning as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say, how much to admit. “But Victor didn’t care about that. He was so likeable it was dangerous.” And, just because she knew they wanted something disgustingly sappy to appease their wretched hearts, Riin added, “He was probably the closest friend I’ve ever had.” </p><p>That was enough to send poor Marcus into near-hysterics. “Oh, Riin, darling!” She barely held back from snapping at the host for using her nickname without permission, pasting a solemn expression to her features while Marcus dabbed at his eyes — was he actually crying? She couldn’t tell. It took a minute for the host to regain control of himself, and Riin used that time to soothe her latent anger, swallow down the vile feeling in the back of her throat at admitting something so personal. Murder was easy compared to the questions trying to pick apart the deepest truths of her soul. Part of her was still furious at Victor for lying to her about escaping the Careers; the other part was ready to forget him altogether. She refused to let herself feel guilt, but everyone and their mother seemed hell-bent on keeping his memory fresh in her mind. </p><p>Once Marcus had finished with his bout of faux sympathy — there was no way it could be real; Riin didn’t know why he wasted the energy trying — he was able to speak again. “It must have been so incredibly hard to do what you did,” he said. “When did you know that you had to do it?”</p><p>Why did he dance around it like that? In a forbidden corner of her brain, Victor smiled at her sadly, though his eyes wore the pain of her betrayal clearly as they had when she’d murdered him. Riin imagined herself grinding the memory into dust. </p><p>“I always knew he had to die,” Riin said, keeping her voice even. “It wasn’t until after the feast was announced that I knew I had to do it myself.”</p><p>Her words settled like asbestos over the air as Marcus took in the meaning of what she’d said: that during her and Victor’s ‘incredibly heartbreaking and beautiful’ conversation, Riin had been planning to kill him. What would the rest of the Capitol think upon hearing her words? Would they be disgusted by her? That would be fabulously hypocritical. But no, that would require them to have a moral compass. </p><p>The rest of the interview was spent discussing the other two final four tributes, Briar and Chase. Riin was able to talk about them without much difficulty, though she bristled when Marcus informed her that they’d been expecting more ‘severe retaliation’ from Chase for the deaths of his allies. Chase’s voice came unbidden from her memory: <em>Just wait ‘til I get my hands on you, then we’ll give them a real show.</em> A couple of final questions about what she looked forward to about her return (mostly seeing her brother, she answered honestly), and Marcus imploring her to share her dental modifications again (Riin obediently flashed a toothy smile to the cameras). Then it was over, and Riin breathed a sigh of relief. </p><p>She was hustled out of the studio with a cordial goodbye to Marcus, and upon returning to her room, she fully expected to nap for an hour or two, as the headache in her temple demanded so rather forcefully. </p><p>Instead, she was greeted at the door of the flat by none other than Doctor Pinstripe himself, who re-fitted the bubble cast to her arm once she’d changed out of her interview dress. He handed her a thick packet of instructions, imploring that she follow them to a tee. To enforce his point, the man began reciting each step she was to take, as if she couldn’t read. Riin tuned him out, instead watching Scilla flit around the room, gathering her belongings into a large suitcase for the train ride. Why did she bother, if she was just going to be coming back to the Capitol anyways?</p><p>Janus joined her with his own much smaller suitcase, waving the doctor away with reassurances and platitudes. “Did you get your reaping dress, if you still want it?” he asked her. </p><p>Her father had promised to dye it indigo for next year’s reaping, Riin remembered. She shook her head. It didn’t matter now; she could buy a new one once she got home. </p><p>Barnabas appeared with an unopened bottle of fancy Capitol wine, to get through the year, he explained. <em>Good for him,</em> Riin thought indifferently. Finally, Scilla was ready, and, passing her bag off to an Avox, she escorted them down to the train station, where Riin was finally left alone in her personal car. Janus assured her that he’d be nearby with more of those aspirin pills if she needed them. Riin spent her time absently poking at the bubble cast on her arm, doing her best not to think about the impending return home and the prospect of facing her family with all that she’d done. </p><p>____</p><p>Riin thankfully managed to sleep for a decent part of the train ride home. At some point, though, the rattling of the car shook her awake, and it was only when she blinked her eyes open did she realize that it was her head doing the rattling and not the locomotive. </p><p>Quietly, she slipped out of her room and padded down the car in search of those aspirin pills that Janus had mentioned earlier. The way the walls pressed tightly around her urged her to move faster, more hurriedly. Every second they sped closer to District Eight, the air felt heavier, more restricting. Part of her knew that the feeling was just her imagination. It didn’t make the fact that she was trapped in the train for a couple more hours any less real. </p><p>Riin didn’t find the aspirin pills in the television-viewing car adjacent to hers; instead she found Janus himself. He lounged half-asleep in one of the plush lengthwise couches, a muted nature documentary playing footage of fluffy white bear cubs on the large viewing screen that took up the entire back wall. While every car had a screen or projector of some sort, none were as dedicated to it as this one.</p><p>Janus cracked open an eye as she entered; he hadn’t been sleeping at all, apparently. “Hello, Thariin. Good—” he checked the clock on the screen “—morning, I suppose.”</p><p>“Aspirin?” </p><p>“Ah,” he said. Standing slowly from his resting place, Janus disappeared into another car, returning a minute later with the small pill bottle in hand and a glass of water. “Here. Concussion still acting up?”</p><p>Concussion; sure, that was it. Riin nodded silently, accepting his explanation and popping two of the pills. She chased them with a sip of water, sitting down on the couch opposite her mentor, and pulled her legs in towards her chest. </p><p>Janus met her unabashed stare with an inquisitive look; while the last remnants of sleep had disappeared from his expression, the weariness still remained. “Are you looking forward to your return?”</p><p>District Eight. It was weird how something so familiar could stop feeling like home. She hadn’t even been back yet, and already she could tell the difference. Riin shook her head ‘no.’ </p><p>“It’s alright,” Janus said. Was it? Riin loved her family, but did they still love her, after everything she’d done?</p><p>What waited for her back in District Eight? The city-district loomed in her mind’s eye, its crowded buildings hunched like predators about to attack, its masses of people she didn’t care to know pressing against her like the walls of the train…</p><p>“Thariin?” Janus’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, drawing Riin back to the present. </p><p>She blinked, trying to clear her head of its buzzing. How long before the aspirin kicked in? “What?” Her tone was short, but Riin couldn't bring herself to care. </p><p>Janus didn’t have anything to say to her, not really. He did pass her a fuzzy-looking blanket, which she wrapped around herself like a shield, tucking her bubble cast out of sight. On the screen, one of the bear cubs playfully tackled its sibling into the snow. Riin watched impassively.</p><p>For a while, her mind blanked on thoughts of District Eight, consumed instead by a headache that was gradually replaced with the family of polar bears as the aspirin did its job. After a minute, she spoke again. “Before I went into the arena, you asked me if I wanted to watch your Hunger Games.”</p><p>“Don’t like the bears?” he asked with a half-hearted smile. </p><p>Riin shrugged. “I want to think about something else.” By his expression, she could tell that Janus understood she wasn’t talking about the bear cubs.</p><p>Picking up the television remote, Janus clicked the buttons, selecting a program titled ‘140th Hunger Games; Victor: J. Shyle, D8.’ </p><p>____</p><p>Riin was still in the viewing car when she blinked awake, snuggled into the soft fabric of the couch with a thick comforter tucked underneath her chin in addition to her fuzzy blanket. That hadn’t been there before; Janus, probably. </p><p>Glancing to the adjacent couch, Riin saw his still-sleeping form stretched out across the cushions, hands folded neatly over his stomach. In front of them, the television clock told her that it was still morning as it cycled through silent previews of nature documentaries, bearing no trace of the macabre history it had displayed last night. </p><p>Right now, Janus slept calmly, peacefully; she had no way of telling if he was plagued by nightmares from his time in the arena. Had he outgrown the horror, or was he simply a master of hiding the guilt that ate him alive from the inside out? She’d seen it flash briefly across his face while they’d re-lived his Games before sinking back into the calm ocean of his neutral expression, which made her suspect the latter. If someone so cool and collected as Janus still suffered from the effects of the arena, then what did that say about her own fate?</p><p>Riin tried to push the thought from her head; right now she had more pressing matters to worry about, like the ever-decreasing distance between the bullet train and District Eight. If there was one person who knew what she’d be facing upon her return, it was Janus; exceedingly more so than his fellow Victor. <em>Their</em> fellow Victor. Because Riin was still alive. </p><p>But being alive meant that she’d have to deal with the consequences of that very soon. Her mother and father. Iden. And Riin knew she hadn’t been hallucinating when she’d seen Cosima’s interview. What had the home she’d once known become in her absence?</p><p>She had half a mind to disturb Janus’s slumber and pester him with her worries, but something about the idea of voicing them out loud made her hesitate. Before she could act, however, an irritated-looking Scilla slammed open the door to the viewing car, startling Janus awake. Riin caught his hand flinching towards something in his pocket, as well as his slightly sheepish expression upon the realization that it was just the escort. Scilla shooed them out of the viewing car,  hustling the Victors to prepare themselves for the return. </p><p>Not wanting to spend too much time on it, Riin decided on something familiar for an outfit: a simple short-sleeved black dress with a white pointed collar. The bubble cast clashed unflatteringly with the ensemble; Riin reinflated it with air that it had lost while she slept, as per Doctor Pinstripe’s instructions. In the dining car, Janus slid her a steaming cup of lavender tea with her breakfast, which Riin appreciated far more than the warm griddle cakes and platters of eggs that filled the table.</p><p>Then, the train was breaking ever so slightly, but Riin felt it distinctly. The feelings of unease from last night came flooding back, grinding down into her stomach. </p><p>“It’s time, Thariin,” Janus said, offering a hand. She moved towards him but didn’t take it, allowing him to gently guide her by the shoulder out onto the train station, which was already crowded with cameras. Riin tried not to flinch at the lights, her breath catching in her throat along with the pungent scent of dye and city smog she hadn’t realized she’d missed. </p><p>Too many cameras, too many people; why were there so many people here? Riin was suddenly very grateful for Janus’s hand on her shoulder, grounding her from the disorientation. Janus was here, and so was the entirety of District Eight, by the look of it. But where was...</p><p>A flicker of movement in the crowd resolved itself into Iden, practically sprinting towards her from where he’d stood with her parents. He shoved a cameraman out of the way, pulling Riin into a tight embrace.</p><p>Riin barely had time to register the action before the memory crept up on her, and suddenly it wasn’t Iden’s arms that were suffocating her, but Victor’s, dragging her backwards from the riverbank where the soon-to-be mutilated corpse of Mira from Eleven lay bleeding in the water. Riin froze — she couldn’t move, couldn’t <em>breathe.</em> She tried again, and a sob caught in the back of her throat, escaping in a soft whimper that thankfully only Iden could hear. He loosened his grip, concern flashing in his eyes. “Riin?”</p><p><em>Keep it together,</em> her mind insisted, and she offered Iden a weak smile before letting her head drop onto his shoulder. <em>Can’t let the cameras see you break.</em> </p><p>He hugged her more gently this time, and Riin felt something wet drip onto her cheek from above. “Hell, Riin, you grew,” Iden said, voice cracking as he wiped the moisture from his eyes.</p><p>“You could say that,” she murmured into the fabric of his shirt. </p><p>Lifting her head, Riin caught sight of her parents, the brilliant white of what must be her mother’s Peacekeepers’ armor glinting despite the overcast sky. Riin almost flinched at the uniform, drowning the memories of paranoia with sheer power of will. As Riin drew closer to them, the Peacekeeper removed her helmet. Her mother’s face was free of tears this time, her smile showing relief and pride, and Riin cautiously let her parents hug her as well, though she tensed under the closeness. No doubt it provided the Capitol a nice, patriotic photo. </p><p>Off to the side of Riin’s family, as if unsure that she was in the right place, stood Cosima Herkimer with a vibrant yellow rose in hand. She was just as pretty as Riin remembered, if not moreso, with that angelic face and those honey-blonde curls. She shuffled closer to Riin, cautiously extending the flower towards the new Victor with the air of confronting a rabid animal. <em>She’s afraid of me,</em> Riin realized. <em>She should be.</em> Riin returned Cosima’s cautious smile with one of her own, accepting the rose from the girl’s hands. It was the same color as the flowers from the arena. </p><p>“The yellow is for friendship,” Cosima said hesitantly. “I’m glad you’re back.”</p><p>Was that a joke? Cosima had told the whole nation that they were best friends; Riin caught the glint of a camera light recording the interaction. If that’s how she wanted to play it… “Me too,” Riin said genuinely. </p><p>Janus interrupted before she could say anything else, herding the five of them (and Barnabas, who’d been hanging back from the view of the cameras) towards a pair of sleek black cars that would take them to Victor’s Village, he explained. </p><p>“Come on,” Riin said, linking arms with an unexpecting Cosima, careful of the air cast still holding her bones together. They slid into a car with Iden and Janus while Barnabas rode with Riin’s parents. </p><p>In the driver’s seat sat a young, dark-skinned girl whose long braids almost rivaled Riin’s hair in length. “Bit more crowded than usual,” she remarked casually as Janus leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. </p><p>“A good thing, no?” Janus said with a light chuckle. “Oh, Thariin, this is my daughter, Zhara. I don’t know if you’ve ever encountered each other before…?”</p><p>Riin certainly couldn’t say that she had. She hadn’t even known that Janus <em>had</em> a daughter. It must’ve been evident on her face; Zhara gave her a slight wave from the rear view mirror as she wove around cars and pedestrians through the city streets. </p><p>“I think I’ve seen you around before,” Iden piped up. “You’re in the grade above me, right?”</p><p>“Yup,” Zhara confirmed. “Would’ve been my year in the arena if my dad had set a toe out of line,” she said with a friendly smile. </p><p>Riin blinked in surprise; she couldn’t quite see Janus’s face from where he sat in the passengers’ seat. He’d probably been relieved, she realized, when Riin’s name had been pulled out of the reaping bowl instead of Zhara’s, absolving his daughter of any future as a Hunger Games tribute. Is that why he’d helped her so much, out of guilt for that relief? <em>At least it worked,</em> Riin conceded in her head. </p><p>“Watch the road, Zhara,” Janus warned, and Zhara swerved suddenly, narrowly avoiding a stray biker, who flipped them a rude gesture. <em>Welcome home,</em> Riin thought with amusement, disentangling herself from where she’d been thrown onto Cosima’s lap. </p><p>“Sorry,” Zhara grimaced. “Only just got my license.” </p><p>She managed to get them safely through the wrought-iron gates enclosing Victor’s Village, and Riin breathed a sigh of relief as they piled out of the car. “This one will be yours,” Janus said to Riin, leading her towards one of the ridiculously large mansions that lined the green and passing her a set of keys. “I will be right across the way if you ever need anything.” He pointed towards the house that Zhara had taken off towards, one of the few that actually showed signs of occupation with a couple lounge chairs and decorative plants lining the grand porch. </p><p>An unexpected emotion welled in her chest as Janus made to leave, starting towards his house. “Janus,” she called out, and he turned around, his eyes questioning. Riin bit her tongue (carefully; she was still getting used to her new teeth). “Thank you,” she said awkwardly. He gave a curt nod, and then he was gone, leaving her alone with Iden and Cosima in front of her porch. Not long after, her parents arrived with Barnabas in tow, the latter disappearing inside his own mansion with barely a wave. </p><p>Almost hesitantly, Riin slid the key into the deadbolt lock, and, turning the handle with a distinct click, she pushed open the door. Inside, the house was just as large as it had appeared out front. Two floors of oversized bedrooms, bathrooms, sitting rooms (one of which contained a sleek black grand piano), kitchens (more than one, for some reason), an attic, and underneath, a sprawling basement. It was more space than she knew what to do with, though her father was eyeing everything up as if he already had ideas. Most of the walls were painted in light greys and beige tones, the furniture almost as plush and comfortable as back in the Capitol. A large, open backyard sat secluded from the eyes of passers-by and neighbors by a thick fence of trees. Riin didn’t particularly care to investigate every room quite yet; she’d have plenty of time to explore it later. </p><p>Nothing about it felt like ‘home’; not yet, at least. The mansion was miles different from their flat back in the city center, though it probably would’ve felt just as surreal if she’d been returning there. The pressure she’d felt on the train, however, seemed to have dissolved in all the distractions, and for that, she was grateful.</p><p>Iden stood next to her in the larger kitchen with Cosima, who was appraising a set of fragile wall plates with a keen eye. “Wow,” her brother said appreciatively. “This is almost ridiculous.” </p><p>Riin hummed in agreement; what the hell was she going to do with all this space? </p><p>“It’s all yours, though,” Iden said, his tone almost reverent. “But I think you might have to kick mom and dad out of the master bedroom.” He huffed a laugh at Riin’s frown, gently prying the yellow rose from her hands. She’d forgotten she’d been holding it. Digging through a china cabinet, her brother found a delicate blue-patterned white vase for the flower, placing both on the kitchen table. The first sign that this house was <em>hers,</em> not the ghost of some long-dead Victor’s, and certainly not her parents’. </p><p>An uncomfortable silence followed, broken only by the muffled sounds of her parents exploring the upstairs rooms. There was an uncertainty that came with it; what happens now?</p><p>A light shuffling of feet to her left; Riin’s head snapped towards the movement. Cosima cleared her throat awkwardly, averting her eyes from Riin’s scrutiny. “My parents will probably be missing me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to the front door. </p><p>“I’ll walk you out,” Riin said, accompanying her outside to the porch while Iden remained behind in the kitchen area. She shut the door behind her, leaving them alone together.</p><p>Cosima glanced around nervously, realizing this as well. Her change in behavior was still a mystery to Riin. What had motivated her to attach herself to Riin’s family, clinging like a leech to her wild misconstruction of their relationship? She’d probably expected for Riin to become no more than a memory over the course of the Games. Certainly, Cosima couldn’t have predicted that Riin would return victorious. </p><p>“Was it easy?” Riin asked, folding her arms. </p><p>Cosima flinched, blonde curls bouncing comically as she looked up from the cellular she was using to call a cab. “W-what do you mean?”</p><p>Riin wasn’t used to the light quiver in her voice, a marked difference from the tone of superiority she usually carried. “Pretending to be my friend, of course,” Riin said, crossing over to stand directly in front of her. Iden was right; she had grown. She was taller than Cosima now, though perhaps she’d just never noticed before, too busy trying to keep her head down. Riin leaned casually against one of the porch’s supporting beams, blocking Cosima’s access to the exit stairway. “I bet it easy for you to convince the Capitol.”</p><p>Based on her uncertainty at the train station, Cosima hadn’t quite expected a friendly reaction from Riin. Apparently, Riin’s earlier acceptance of her pretense had reassured her; she was quite caught off-guard now. “I can explain, Riin, I—“</p><p>Riin cut her off. “Oh, please; don’t worry about it,” she said, stepping closer to tuck a stray lock of golden hair behind Cosima’s ear, close enough to watch the brilliant blue of the girl’s irises shrink as her eyes widened. Riin smiled, a flash of newly sharpened teeth. “We’re friends now, aren’t we?” </p><p>Xerya Valorius was right — Riin still had more games to play.</p><p>____<br/>
FIN</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>.__. I don’t quite think I’d call that a happy ending. For Riin, maybe.. but man, I feel bad for everyone who’s gotta deal with her now, smh. </p><p>I probably could’ve broken this into two chapters, but I. Didn’t feel like it whoops lol. Sorry for introducing like 10 characters in the last chapter, but here we are. </p><p>It was supposed to be much longer bc I was going to include the entirety of the scene where Riin and Janus are watching his hunger games, but that got a Bit out of hand.. (it would’ve made the chapter like twice as long). Instead, I’ll be posting that as another shorter story/scene soon ! At the moment, I have it written from Riin’s POV, but I’m considering telling it from Janus’s... what would you guys prefer? I haven’t written from his POV yet 🤔 </p><p>I won’t include my closing statements right now, as I plan on posting a little addendum “chapter” to this, along with a little surprise (no writing, I’m afraid, but I hope you guys will enjoy !)</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Final Notes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don’t quite have more writing for you guys yet; this is more of a curtain call than anything.</p><p>Edit: I forgot to link my Spotify playlist for the fic: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Maw6CYgxGxEEuecIQ6LOm?si=M4HFC5oiTsmupJOgBHQbzQ">here</a> you go; it contains all of the songs for each chapter in order !</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>____</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>____</p><p>
  <em> <strong>THE 168TH HUNGER GAMES</strong> </em>
</p><p>____</p><p>____</p><p>
  <strong>NAMED TRIBUTES:</strong>
</p><p>Nova (District 1 Female)</p><p>Blade (District 2 Male)</p><p>Marcella (District 3 Female)</p><p>Chase Vesto (District 3 Male)</p><p>Nedda Thompson (District 5 Female)</p><p>Teffrey Silvers (District 5 Male)</p><p>Briar Sannibel (District 6 Female)</p><p>Briston (District 7 Male)</p><p>Thariin Kres (District 8 Female)</p><p>Karl Taylor (District 8 Male)</p><p>Echelle Kaperton (District 9 Female)</p><p>Melis Dray (District 9 Male)</p><p>Mira Tempé (District 11 Female)</p><p>Oriel Ellison (District 11 Male)</p><p>Kella (District 13 Female)</p><p>Victor Hadrian (District 13 Male)</p><p> </p><p>____</p><p>
  <strong>VICTORS:</strong>
</p><p>Proxima Greer (District 3, Unspecified)</p><p>Reishi Herschel (District 13, Unspecified)</p><p>Janus Shyle (District 8, Year 140)</p><p>Barnabas Flink (District 8, Year 148)</p><p>Sascha Teng (District 9, Year 149)</p><p>Jezephel Xoreen (District 11, Year 150)</p><p>Tsiganis Pyrion (District 1, Year 164)</p><p> </p><p>____</p><p>
  <strong>OTHERS:</strong>
</p><p>Iden Kres (District 8, Brother to Thariin Kres)</p><p>Valdora Kres (District 8, Mother to Thariin Kres, Peacekeeper)</p><p>Hanada Kres (District 8, Father to Thariin Kres, Seamster)</p><p>Cosima Herkimer (District 8, <strike>Nemesis</strike> Friend to Thariin Kres)</p><p>Zhara Shyle (District 8, Daughter of Janus Shyle)</p><p>Killian Aquila (Capitol, Head Gamemaker)</p><p>Scilla Draxas (Capitol, Escort to District 8)</p><p>Marcus Argentus (Capitol, Hunger Games Host)</p><p>Xerya Valorius (Capitol, First Lady of Panem)</p><p>Arjun Valorius (Capitol, President of Panem)</p><p>Loki (Capitol, Stylist for District 8)</p><p>Dua (Capitol, Prep Team for District 8)</p><p>Felix (Capitol, Prep Team for District 8)</p><p>Walter (Capitol, Prep Team for District 8)</p><p>Capula (Capitol, Socialite)</p><p>____</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In case anyone was curious how I was envisioning the main characters of this story, I somehow found the energy to draw them ! I will warn you now, my drawing motivation and my writing motivation seem to follow something akin to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle in that it is p much impossible for me to consistently accomplish both at the same time. If I happen to get back into the vibe of drawing, I may draw out some of the scenes from this fic and share them (maybe I’ll create a gallery for it). However, if I stay in the writing mindset, I will hopefully be sharing that soon enough. (Unfortunately, it’s entirely possible that I won’t have time to do either, which. Rip.) Anyways, you’ll have to kill me before I draw that goddamn arena outfit again; five times is Way too many hdhdh </p><p>More importantly, I just wanted to thank every one of you for supporting this story! It means a lot to me that people actually read and enjoyed it? I still can’t believe I actually finished writing the damn thing, it’s been in my head (and half finished in my docs) for so long haha. </p><p>Special thanks to Haospart, Unicorn7, Brook1, corico, Supersage171, and Miss_Haki for all your wonderful comments ;-; Also a huge shoutout to TintinnabulousRunes, who I’m pretty sure is what got me thinking about hunger games stories like.. more than a year ago thanks to their wonderful hg series. Sorry if you see this, I know it’s hella random haha. I’m gonna try to keep it brief, but I’ve got like a half a dozen other people I wanna shout out for being huge inspirations.. which would be most of y’all who I’ve already thanked earlier, in addition to Iomhar and EvilOtter. Uhh yeah.. I love reading all your works and I’m just really happy to see that people have actually engaged with my story too ;-; </p><p>As for the story itself, hopefully I will find the time and energy to continue from this point. If my writing ever catches up to where my brain envisions this story going, it’ll be a miracle.</p>
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